And clasped her closely to my breast.
I felt that she was truly mine,
By honor’s law, by law divine,
That none with shame our flight could brand,
From hapless Broek-in-Waterland.
We never thought of storm or calm,
But held our course to Rotterdam.
The gale had fallen to a breeze,
And sails were spread to greet the seas.
We bade our native land adieu,