7
His face look'd pale, his limbs seem’d weak,
And his footsteps fell so still,
That to hear them sound you’d vainly seek,
And to none of the crew did Bill ere speak,
And none of us spoke to Bill.
But when three weeks had pass’d away,
Just as you now have heard,
The Captain came on deck one day,
Quoth he, My lads, I’ve something to say,—
Bill Jones is as good as his word.
He never leaves me day nor night,
But haunts me, haunts me still,
At midnight hour I see the sprite,
And the morning sky grows light,
The first sun-beam shows me Bill.
At meal, his pale lips speak the grace,
His cold hands gives the wine,
At every hour, in every place,
Which ever side I turn my face,
Bill’s eyes are fixt on mine.
Now lads, my resolution’s made,
One means shall set me free,
And Bill’s pursuits for ever evade—
He comes! He comes! away, he said.
And plung’d into the sea.
