He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago.

Drake he was a Devon man, an' ruled the Devon seas,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)
Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went with wi' heart of ease
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe.
"Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore,
Strike et when your powder's runnin' low;
If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven,
An' drum them up the channel as we drummed them long ago."

Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas come,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)
Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the drum,
An' dreamin' all the time of Plymouth Hoe.
Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound,
Call him when ye sail to meet the foe
Where the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin'
They shall find him ware and wakin', as they found him long ago!


THE GREY GHOST: FRANCIS CARLIN

From year to year there walks a Ghost in grey,
Through misty Connemara in the West;
And those who seek the cause of his unrest,
Need go but to the Death-dumb in the clay,
To those that fell defiant in the fray,
Among the boggy wilds of Ireland, blest
By Cromwell, when his Puritanic jest