With its heaving and whistling pillow.

Down from the skies look the spectral eyes

Of our kelpie, sprite and bewailer,

And gathering in crowds by the shivering shrouds,

They croon while our cheeks grow paler,

And they sing as they sweep o'er the clamorous deep:

"We love the hot heart of a sailor!"

THE AMERICAN GIRLS.

Yes! The land we love

Is a land of pretty girls,

In grand variety;

With their many colored eyes

And their multi-colored curls,

They'll steal thy heart from thee.

If you travel in the North,

One will gleam in glory forth,

With her blue eyes, O, so blue!

And her flash of golden hair

Will be flirting in the air,

While entrancing all the soul in you.

 Prev. P 6/69 next