Cat. #1433 (MFH #967) - As sung by Otis Williams, Wesley, Arkansas on
VERSE 1
There came to port last Sunday night
Th queeriest little craft
Without a inch of rigging on
I looked an' looked an' laughed
It seemed so curious that,
She should toss, on water
An' moor herself within my room
My daughter, O, my daughter
VERSE 2
Yet, by th present witness----
She's welcome fifty times
He came consigned to hope an' love
An' common meter rhyme
She has no manifest but this
No flight --- o'er th water
She's rather new for --- ---
My daughter, O my daughter
VERSE 3
Ring out wild bells and tame ones too
Ring out th worried moon
Ring in th little ------ ------
Ring in th bibs an' -----