SONGS.
HARRY BLUFF.
When a boy, Harry Bluff left his friends and home,
And his dear native land, on the ocean to roam;
Like a sapling he sprung, he was fair to the view,
And was true British oak, boys, when older he ⟨grew.⟩
Though his body was weak, and his hands they were soft,
When the signal was heard, he the first went aloft,
And the veterans all cried, he’ll one day lead the ⟨van,⟩
For though rated a boy, he’d the soul of a man,
And the heart of a true British sailor.
When in manhood promoted, and burning for fame,
Still in peace and in war Harry Bluff was the same,
So true to his love, and in battle so brave,
The myrtle and laurel entwine o’er his grave.
For his country he fell, when by victory crown’d.
The flag shot away, fell in tatters around;
The foe thought he’d struck— but he sung, avast!
And the colours of England he nail’d to the mast,
Then he died like a true British sailor.
