The Ballad of Blue Point

(to the beat of an Irish drinking song)

At Blue Point Fair, in a village there

A young maiden anxiously looked at the sea

Combing her long locks, minding every tick of the clock

She awaited the return of dear lover Du Pre

When the clock struck nine, golden ribbons she entwined

Deeply into her dark satiny braids

Waiting yet still then as the clock struck ten

She caressed her dresses and sighed

The night pressed forward on, yet she waited til dawn

Pressing her bosom to the window pane

Yet returned he no more thou her broken sobs implored

He had been captured by the free life of the sea

He had loved her dear when he had held her near

And had murmured “Surely I must love thee”

But now from afar, other ladies, taverns and bars

Had devalued love’s tingle severely

By early next spring, another suitor, and a ring

Did present themselves to this lady so fair

She wed the next year, and shed not a tear

They raised four pretty daughters with glee

And the sailor Du Pre, enjoyed his life set oh so free

Thou he had felt marriage a trap, he died of the clap

And they say he was buried at sea.