Sweet Annie looked to east, to west, To north and south looked she: There was no single boat afloat Upon the angry sea.
The sky was dark, the winds were high, The breakers lashed the shore, And louder and still louder swelled The tempest’s sullen roar.
“Look forth again,” Dame Margaret cried; “Doth any boat come in?” And scarce she heard the answering word Above the furious din.
“Pray God no boat may put to sea In such a gale!” she said; “Pray God no soul may dare to-night The rocks of Danger Head!”
“This is Good Friday, Annie Blair,” Dame Margaret cried again, “When Mary’s Son, the Merciful, On Calvary was slain.
The earth did quake, the rocks were rent, The graves were opened wide, And darkness like to this fell down When He—the Holy—died.
Give me your hand, O Annie Blair; Your two knees fall upon; Christ send to you your lover back— To me, my only son!”
All night they watched, all night they prayed, All night they heard the roar Of the fierce breakers dashing high Upon the lonely shore.
Oh, hark! strange footsteps on the sand, A voice above the din: “Dame Margaret! Dame Margaret! Is Annie Blair within?
High on the rocks of Danger Head Her lover’s boat is cast, All rudderless, all anchorless— Mere hull and splintered mast.”