Cicely Fox Smith Poems

Good-bye and fare ye well; for we'll sail no more together,
Broad seas and narrow in fair or foul weather:
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St. George for merry England!
Fair 'fall the cross of red,
Beneath whose folds, unyielding
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Lovely is the white town, and smiling it lies
With little green gardens underneath the blue skies,
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'Where I was born an' r'ared,' said Clancy,
'There was pigs an' cows an' such,' said he,
'House an' farm if I'd cared,' said Clancy,
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The last night of November
All dreaming as I lay,
I saw a fisher toiling
In stormy seas and grey, -
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When you are tired of the long road and the open sky,
I wish it may be my door that you're passing by:
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Now, I fell in love with a Limehouse lass,
But she has proved untrue;
She looked as fresh as a figurehead
That's just been painted new;
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'I don't want none of 'is stuff,' said Bill, 'nor I don't want none of 'is gear,
I don't want things as I've known 'im use nor things as I've
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'To Ducklington,' the signpost read;
And 'That's the way for me,' I said,
For that (I thought) must surely be
A pleasant kind of place to see,
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When I'm growing old (if I'm getting tired of sailing
Up and down the seas, and always finding something new),
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