BEN BRIGGS:

Southland Times, Issue 1268, 21 June 1870, Page 3

BEN BRIGGS:

A TEBT DOLEFUL BALLAD, Ben Briggs he was a sailor tough, Ai ever ploughed the main ; On sea, hit lore was Molly Bawn, On ihore, 'twas Sally Blain. And Sail was known thro' all the town. For her obliging ways — In watching, all her nights -were spent, In washing, all her days. Old Ben had sailed the world around, Unto its farthest goal ; Had sat and smoked his pipe astride Upon the Northern Pole. The great Sea Serpent he had seen, And Mermaids many a score ; And wondrous were the yarns he span . To landsmen, when on shore. To Sally Blain he bade adieu, And went on board his ship, The Molly Bawn, to Southland bound—: But this was his last trip. One night as Sally watched, she slept, And dreamed that Ben was dead, A glimm'ring light shone in the room, With rays white, blue, and red. And slowly, slowly, from the floor, i A shadowy form appeared ; She knew 'twas Ben, although his fact With mud was all besmeared. Oh, SaUy Blanc! Oh, SaUy Blanel: . You'll see no more of me ; My body's not beneath the land, If or yet beneath the sea. The Molly Bawn's a vessel good, With timbers stout and tough g In spite of raging winds and seas, She anchored at the Bluft By*re captain's leare, we went on shore, My messmate Jack and me, To InTercargill straight we steered, Its wonders for to see. One night— a dark and boist*rous night— I'd groggM with Captain Budd, And taking a wide berth, I found j A berth among the mud. A ditch of mud, a fathom deep, | 1 Lay open here and there ; The street, I think, they calls it Spsy, It ought** been despair. Headlong into the gulf I fell, With washy splashy din ; I could not ope' my mouth, for why f The filthy mud ran in. The filthy mud ran in, and soon It surely stopped my breath, Oh !' had I stayed with Molly Bawn, And met a seaman's death 1 Had I been drounded in the sea, Or even in a river, But to be choked with shocking mud Befouls my name for ever J I'm sadly changed, you scarce can tell The color of my skin ; Tho' now no more your Benjamin, Fm still your Ben-jammsd^in. Oh ! Sally Blanc, 'tis all in vain To sob, and weep, and sigh, You never more will eye my pipe, Then wherefore pipe your eye T This fearful change is wondrou strange, All muddled is my brain ; If you are dumb-struck at my fate, You must be my Bumb-Blain. Here chanticleer his trumpet blew, Ben knew his hour was come, And so, as Yankee Doodles say, He quietly went to hunt. But three days after Ben's decease, The neighbors round about Descried a seaman's hat, and soon They forked his body out „ A downer's 'quest was straightway held Within the Golden Fleece, And all agreed that want of breath Had caused poor Ben's decease. The jury then this verdict found, With many " yeas and nays"— Ben-slaughter 'gainst the Government 'Cause of their evil ways. J. GK S.