One morning I walk'd by my self on the shoar,
When the Tempest did sing and the Waves they did roar,
Yet the noise of the winde and the waters was drown'd
By the pittiful cry and the sorrowful sound,
Of ah! ah! ah! my Love's dead,
There is not a Bell
But a Triton's shell,
To ring, to ring, to ring my Love's knell.
It troubled me much when I heard all her grief,
But hoping it might not be pass all Relief,
I followed the voice till at the last I esyp'd
A sorrowful Lady, and all that she cry'd.
Was ah, ah, ah, my Love's dead,
There is not a Bell,
But a Triton's shell,
To ring, to ring, to ring my Love's knell.
A handsomer Damosel sure never were seen,
With a face like an Angel, a Robe like a Queen,
A Voyce like a Syren, and Eyes like a Dove,
Yet ever she cry'd for the losse of her Love;
Ah, ah, ah, my Loves dead, &c.
When my Love was alive his courage was such,
He conquered the Dane, and affrighted the Dutch,
He ventur'd to shew he ne'r fear'd to dye,
But woe be to me that for ever must cry,
Ah, ah, ah my Love's dead,
There is not a Bell,
But a Triton's shell,
To ring, to ring, to ring my Love's knell.
Surrounded with Ships and asulted by Foes,
He stoutly received, and returned their blows;
So well he did manage his Ship in the strife,
That he never would yeild till he yeilded his life,
Ah, ah, ah, my Love's dead, &c.
To recal him to life, Oh what would I give?
But since he is dead, 'tis no pleasure to live,
He ventur'd for me, and shall I be afraid,
To dye for my love? it shall never be said:
Ah, ah, ah, my Loves dead,
There is not a Bell,
But a Triton's shell,
To ring, to ring, to ring my Love's knell.