#01605
The Beloved Land (Kenneth Peacock)

The sun's setting beams
on the sea were reflecting,
As gracefully glided our ship
with the breeze;
On the deck stood a youth,
silent, pale, and dejected,
Oh, why was that young heart
so thoughtful and grieved?
As he stood there alone,
his lonely watch keeping,
The breeze on his broad brow
the dark curls were sweeping;
And ever through his own silent watch
he was weeping,
Saying, "Farewell, my beloved land;
I'll see thee no more.

"Farewell, ye green fields
where in boyhood I wandered,
Ye fields where my young feet
with gladness did press;
Adieu, ye old haunts
where ofttimes I have pondered
O'er wrongs that my young heart
has bled to redress.
Oh, land of my father,
my soul grieves to leave thee,
Oh, land from the tyrant
I've struggled to free thee;
Prescribed as an exile,
no more I will see thee,
My own beloved land
I will see thee no more."

Darker and deeper
eve's shadows fell around him,
And distant and dim
grew the shores from his view;
But still to the deck
there was something that bound him,
It was then that he murmured
his lone sad adieu.
The solemn night fell
like a pall on the ocean,
Closed o'er the isle of his
young heart's devotion;
And there, amid the wild
swelling waves of emotion
He murmured, "Beloved land,
I'll see thee no more!"

####.... Author unknown. Traditional murder ballad ....####

Collected by Kenneth Peacock in 1952 from Philip J Foley [1905-1982] of Tilting, NL, and published in Songs Of The Newfoundland Outports, Volume 2, pp.352-353, by the National Museum of Canada (1965) Crown Copyrights Reserved.


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