To try their speed in rougher waves,
The Brownies from a lofty place
Looked out upon the novel race.
Said one: "A race is under way.
They'll start from somewhere in the bay,
To leave the frowning forts behind,
And Jersey headlands, as you'll find,
And sail around, as I surmise,
The light-ship that at anchor lies.
All sails are spread, the masts will bend,