V.
So on he dashed—a minute more,
And the impudent yacht was hit full sore; And because she didn't keep safe in Ryde, Adown she went, with a hole in her side; Down, down she sank, and, sad to relate,
This made her Majesty's “special" late; Though her people will gladly learn that she Reached Scotland, at last, quite punctually. Oh! the Mistletoe bow !
VI.
But the Mistletoe's crew and her
passengers gay
Were struggling for life in Stokes's bay, And some were saved and some were lost ; Three lives in all that day it cost,
Not because some lubbers of high degree Forgot the rule of the road at sea, But because an impertinent banker tried To use her Majesty's wind and tide. Oh
the Mistletoe bow !
VII.
Two sisters sank, and the saved one wept For the sister the cruel waves had kept;
And long they sought for that maiden fair, Till a mariner spied her floating hair, And under the mainsail she lay dead,
With the ropes all tangled about her head; And the cry of grief was long and loud,
As they raised the sail which had been her shroud. Oh
the Misf/efoe bow !
