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SOURCE:
M3274 NATIONAL MARITIME MUSEUM A series of handwritten ship's journals 1850s SITE SOURCE: Sydney Folklore Project - Section 7: MARITIME The Maid OnboardI sing of a lovely maiden fairShe was fair as ever was maid, On her head was glossy golden hair All gathered up in a braid. She sailed from far Australia's shore For old England's foggy clime, The maid had been on the sea before But not for a very long time. In stormy waters, when the ship did pass It was sad to see her ill. The medical man was quite at a loss For she baffled his utmost skill The stormy sea at length was quiet And steadily went that ship With help of sleep and a liberal diet On the poop she could gaily trip How gay and happy was this far maid As she smiled on all around Skipping about in her tartan plaid With a bright elastic bonnet On front of the poop she often stood And along the deck she gazed In such a pensive reflective mood The passengers were amazed They wondered what could she have seen To cause her such deep reflection Some said 'twas a man of noble mien Of bright and placid complexion And that as it may, it is most truly That the maid began to droop In silence she gazed at the ocean blue Whenever she came on the poop Her laugh which once merrily rang So musical in the saloon Was never heard, she would rarely sing When she did 'twas a plaintive tone Her face became all pale and wan And at last she got so weak That the doctor, being a kindly man, Determined the cause to seek. One day she sat in a pensive mood And the tears were in her eyes Untouched beside her lay her food She was muttering frequent sighs The medical man was taking a walk And he stopped in front of miss And then he began a little talk With “Will you tell me the cause of this?” She looked up in his kindly face And she said “I am no dodger Do you think it would be out of place If I were to woo Sir Roger?” “Oh no, my dear” the doctor said “that won't cause a deal of tattle but do you know, the man you wish to wed is but a dealer in cattle?” Oh dear! Oh dear! What a fool am I Oh, how wild my thoughts have been then To think that I should pine and cry For that burly butcher man. Moral Now all you maids who go to sea Take warning by this maid Have always one of your own degree And you need not be afraid.
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