She saw young Sandy shivering stand,
With pallid cheek and hollow ee.
'O Mary dear, cold is my clay;
It lies beneath the stormy sea;
The storm, is past, and I'm at rest;
So, Mary, weep no more for me.'
Loud crew the cock; the vision fled;
No more young Sandy could she see;
But soft a parting whisper said,
'Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.'"