“Come in out of the wind and rain, now mother will rejoice.
We’ve got a very charming fire, and I have parched some corn
And there is nothing now to do but sit down and be warm.”
Her grandsire kissed her rosy cheek and with a merry air
Her brother dropped his dripping hat upon her glossy hair.
They gathered round the cheerful fire and while the sullen gale
Swept mournful by, sat listening to many a piteous tale
Which the old grandsire told of days long past and gone,
When a stout and hardy sailor he had weathered many a storm;
And down the gentle mother’s cheek stole many a silent tear,