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Now she mourns while she thinks
On the Isle St Helena.
The rude rushing waves
A' our shores round are washing,
And the great billows heaves
A' the wild rocks a-dashing.
He may look upon the moon,
And think on Lousiana,
With his heart full of woe,
On the Isle St. Helena.
Now you that have great wealth,
Be aware of ambition;
For some decree of fate
Soon may change your condition.
Be ye stedfast in time,
For what's to come, ye kenna;
May be, your race may end
At the Isle St. Helena.
JOHNNY COUP.
COUP sent a letter frae Dunbar,
Charlie meet me an ye dare,
