|
The Smuggler's Boy
Bob Roberts
On one cloudy morning abroad I did roam,
Where the sea breaketh white on
the beaches with foam.
When I heard a poor boy who in sorrow did weep,
Crying, "Alas my poor father lies out in the deep."
"My father and mother so happy did dwell
In a trim little cottage by the
River Orwell,
But me father would venture out on the salt sea
For a keg of good brandy from the land of the free."
"From Holland we steered but the tempest did roar,
And the lightning flashed round us when far from the shore.
The mast and the rigging were thrown to the wave,
And with them went father to a watery grave."
"So I jumped overboard in the wild raging main,
For to save my poor father, but all was in vain.
I clasped
his cold form but quite lifeless was he,
And swept from my arms he sank down in the sea."
"Then I clung to a plank and was soon washed ashore,
With the sad news to tell them that he was no more.
When she heard it poor mother of grief she did die,
And all alone left me—so pity poor I."
"But a lady of fortune she heard me complain,
And she gave me shelter from
wind and from rain.
She said "I've no child for all that I've tried,
So this
poor smuggler boy in my bosom shall bide."
I have recorded other versions from a Suffolk
singer and
from Harry Cox in Norfolk as well
as from a gipsy child from Kent. Ashton
published a version in 'More
Street Ballads' in
1888.
|