' TWAS at night, when the bell had toll'd twelve,
⁠And poor Susan was laid on her pillow,
In her ear whisper'd some fitting elve—
⁠Your love is now toss'd on a billow,
⁠Far, far at sea!

All was dark, as she woke out of breath,
⁠Not an object her fears could discover;
All was still as the silence of death,
⁠Save fancy, which painted her lover,
⁠Far, far at sea!

So she whisper'd a prayer—clos'd her eyes,
⁠But the phantom still haunted her pillow;
Whilst in terror she echo'd his cries,
⁠As struggling he sunk in a billow,
⁠Far, far at sea!