It was her breakfast--all the darling had; But oh! she gave it with a heart so glad.
[Illustration: Grace Darling Rowing in Storm.]
"Over the wave, the stormy wave, Hasten, dear father, with me, The crew to save from a wat'ry grave, Deep in the merciless sea. Hear ye the shriek, the piercing shriek, Hear ye the cry of despair? With courage quick the wreck we'll seek; Danger united we'll dare.
"Out with the boat, the gallant boat; Not a moment to be lost; See! she's afloat, proudly afloat, And high on the waves we're tossed; Mother, Adieu, a short adieu; Your prayers will rise to heaven; Father to you--your child and you-- Power to save is given.
"I have no fear, no maiden fear; My heart is firm to the deed, I shed no tear, no coward tear; I've strength in time of need. Hear ye the crash, the horrid crash? Their mast over the side is gone; Yet on we dash, 'mid lightning flash, Safe through the pelting storm.
"The wreck we near, the wreck we near, Our bonny boat seems to fly, List to the cheer, their welcome cheer, They know that succour is nigh." And on that night, that dreadful night, The father and daughter brave, With strengthened might they both unite, And many dear lives they save.
Hail to the maid, the fearless maid, The maid of matchless worth; She'll e'er abide the cherished pride Of the land that gave her birth. The send her gold, her name high uphold, Honour and praise to impart; But, with true regard, the loved reward Is the joy of her own brave heart.
Who is it each day in the week may be seen, With her hair short and smooth, and her hands and face clean; In a stout cotton gown, of dark and light blue, Though old, so well mended, you'd take it for new; Her handkerchief tidily pinned o'er her neck. With a neat little cap, and an apron of check; Her shoes and her stockings all sound and all clean? She's never fine outside and dirty within.
Go visit her cottage, though humble and poor. 'Tis so neat and so clean you might eat off the floor; No rubbish, no cobwebs, no dirt can be found, Though you hunt every corner, and search all around. Who sweeps it so nicely, who makes all the bread, Who tends her sick mother, and works by her bed? 'Tis the neat, tidy girl--she needs no other name; Abroad or at home, she is always the same.
