The Holy Island
Dey call it de Holy Islan'
W'ere de lighthouse stan' alone,
Lookin' across w'ere de breaker toss,
Over de beeg grey stone;
Dey call it de Holy Islan,'
For wance, on de day gone by,
A holy man from a far-off lan'
Is leevin' dere, till he die.
Down from de ole, ole people,
Scatter upon de shore,
De story come of Fader Jerome,
De pries' of Salvador
Makin' hees leetle house dere,
Wit' only hees own two han',
Workin' along, an' singin' de song
Nobody understan'.
"All for de ship an' sailor
Out on de stormy sea,
I mak' ma home," say Fader Jerome,
"W'ere de rock an' de beeg wave be
De good God up on de Heaven
Is answer me on de prayer,
An' bring me here, so I 'll never fear,
But foller heem ev'ryw'ere!"
Lonely it was, dat islan',
Seven league from de coas',
An' only de cry, so loud an' high,
Of de poor drown sailors' ghos'
You hear, wit' de screamin' sea gull;
But de man of God he go
An' anchor dere, an' say hees prayer
For ev'rywan here below.
Night on de ocean 's fallin',
Deep is de fog, an' black,
As on dey come, to deir islan' home,
De sea-bird hurryin' back;
W'at is it mak' dem double
An' stop for a minute dere,
As if in fear of a soun' dey hear,
Meetin' dem on de air?