A Reminiscence of Redcar.
Broke, broke, broke,
By thy pitiless shores, O sea;
And I grieve that my tongue should utter
The groans that arise in me.
Oh well for the hunter’s soul,
Had he stopped at home that day,
Oh well had he taken some lovelorn lass
And spooned in his boat on the bay.
For the favourites all go down,