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Excerpt from The Story of Jack, the Hermit of the White Mountains
Aye, sir! These summer days when travelers come And laugh and joke here in my humble ship, And ask me why I made this place my home, 'tis but the dregs, another bitter sip, Beg pardon, though, I'm steering wild, I guess, So now I'll start upon the other tack; I may sheer off a few points more or less, But save your patience and I'll steer right back.
My parents died when I was twelve years old, In London I was left without a friend, My whole possessions were one pound in gold And hopes that Fate would something better send. I scorned the institutions that were free, And feared that I might yet be sent to school My whole ambition was to go to sea, I went, - and there is where I played the fool.
Barefooted, with my bundle I would trot For days and days around the London docks; Do you want a boy, sir? And all I got For answer was hard words and harder knocks. At last one day when hope was almost dead, And tired and homesick I sat down to cry, A little girl came toddling up, and said: Don't cry, poor boy, you 's lost and so is I.
And so she was, the bonny little dear; Her eyes were blue, her hair like shining gold.
She'd Come to look for daddy's ship down here, Her name was Mary, and just five years old.
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