I CANNOT forget my Joe, <br /> I bid him be mine in sleep; <br />But battle and woe have changed him so <br /> There ’s nothing to do but weep. <br /> <br />My mother rebukes me yet, <br /> And I never was meek before; <br />His jacket is wet, his lip cold set, <br /> He ’ll trouble our home no more. <br /> <br />Oh, breaker of reeds that bend! <br /> Oh, quencher of tow that smokes! <br />I ’d rather descend to my sailor friend <br /> Than prosper with lofty folks. <br /> <br />I ’m lying beside the gowan, <br /> My Joe in the English bay; <br />I ’m Annie Rowan, his Annie Rowan, <br /> He called me his Bien-Aimée. <br /> <br />I ’ll hearken to all you quote, <br /> Though I ’d rather be deaf and free; <br />The little he wrote in the sinking boat <br /> Is Bible and charm for me.<br /><br />William Johnson Cory<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poor-french-sailor-s-scottish-sweetheart/
