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William Henry Drummond - The Holy Island
Work rating: Low

Dey call it de Holy Islan`
    W`ere de lighthouse stan` alone,
  Lookin` across w`ere de breaker toss,
    Over de beeg grey stone;
  Dey call it de Holy Islan,`
    For wance, on de day gone by,
  A holy man from a far-off lan`
    Is leevin` dere, till he die.

  Down from de ole, ole people,
    Scatter upon de shore,
  De story come of Fader Jerome,
    De pries` of Salvador
  Makin` hees leetle house dere,
    Wit` only hees own two han`,
  Workin` along, an` singin` de song
    Nobody understan`.

  "All for de ship an` sailor
    Out on de stormy sea,
  I mak` ma home," say Fader Jerome,
    "W`ere de rock an` de beeg wave be
  De good God up on de Heaven
    Is answer me on de prayer,
  An` bring me here, so I`ll never fear,
    But foller heem ev`ryw`ere!"

  Lonely it was, dat islan`,
    Seven league from de coas`,
  An` only de cry, so loud an` high,
    Of de poor drown sailors` ghos`
  You hear, wit` de screamin` sea gull;
    But de man of God he go
  An` anchor dere, an` say hees prayer
    For ev`rywan here below.

  Night on de ocean’s fallin`,
    Deep is de fog, an` black,
  As on dey come, to deir islan` home,
    De sea-bird hurryin` back;
  W`at is it mak` dem double
    An` stop for a minute dere,
  As if in fear of a soun` dey hear,
    Meetin` dem on de air?

  Sweeter dey never lissen,
    Magic it seem to be,
  Hangin` aroun`, dat wonderful soun`,
    Callin` across de sea;
  Music of bell’s widin it,
    An` foller it on dey go
  High on de air, till de islan` dere
    Of Salvador lie below.

  Dat’s w`ere de bell’s a-ringin`
    Over de ocean track,
  Troo fog an` rain an` hurricane,
    An` w`enever de night is black;
  Kipin` de vow he’s makin`,
    Dat’s w`at he’s workin` for,
  Ringin de bell, an` he do it well,
    De Fader of Salvador!

  An` de years go by, an` quickly,
    An` many a sailor`s wife
  She’s prayin` long, an` she’s prayin` strong
    Dat God he will spare de life
  Of de good, de holy Fader,
    Off w`ere de breakers roar,
  Only de sea for hees companie,
    Alone on Salvador.

        *      *      *      *

  Summer upon de islan`,
    Quiet de sea an` air,
  But no bell ring, an` de small bird sing,
    For summer is ev`ryw`ere;
  A ship comin` in, an` on it
    De wickedes` capitaine
  Was never sail on de storm, or gale,
    From here to de worl`s en`!

  "Geev` me dat bell a-ringin`
    For not`ing at all, mon père;
  Can`t sleep at night, w`en de moon is bright,
    For noise she was makin` dere.
  I`m sure she was never chrissen,
    An` we want no heretic bell;
  W`ere is de book?  For you mus` look
    An` see if I chrissen it well!"

  Leevin` heem broken-hearted,
    For Fader Jerome is done,
  He sail away wit` de bell dat day,
    Capitaine Malcouronne;
  An` down w`ere dead man’s lyin`,
    Down on de ocean deep,
  He sink it dere, w`ile he curse an` swear,
    An` tole it to go to sleep.

  An` t`ree more year is passin`,
    An` now it’s a winter night:
  Poor Salvador, so bles` before,
    Is sittin` among de fight
  Of breaker, an` sea-bird yellin`,
    An` noise of a tousan` gun,
  W`en troo de fog, lak a dreefin` log,
    Come Capitaine Malcouronne!

  Gropin` along de sea dere,
    Wonderin` w`ere he be,
  Prayin` out loud, before all de crowd
    Of sailor man on hees knee;
  Callin` upon de devil,
    "Help! or I’m gone!" he shout;
  "Dat bell it go to you down below,
    So now you can ring me out

  "To de open sea, an` affer
    I promise you w`at I do,
  Yass, ev`ry day I’ll alway pray
    To you, an` to only you--
  Kip me in here no longer,
    Or de shore I won`t see again!"
  T`ink of de prayer he’s makin` dere,
    Dat wicked ole capitaine!

  An` bell it commence a-ringin`,
    Quiet at firse, an` den
  Lak tonder crash, de ship go smash,
    An` w`ere is de capitaine?
  An` de bell kip ringin`, ringin`,
    Drownin` de breakers` roar,
  An` dere she lie, w`ile de sea-birds cry,
    On de rock of Salvador.
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