The Original Ben Bolt
T. M. Scroggy, publisher, No. 443 Vine st. above 18th. Where all the new songs can be obtained wholesale &retail.
The Original, Ben Bolt. Unabridged and unaltered.
Don’t you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?
Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown,
Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile,
And trembled with fear at your frown;
In the old churchyard in the valley, Ben Bolt,
In the corner obscure and alone,
They have fitted a slab of the granite so gray,
And Alice lies under the stone.
Under the hickory tree, Ben Bolt,
Which stood at the foot of the hill,
Together we’ve lain in the shade of the day,
And listened to Appleton’s mill,
The millwheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt,
The rafters have all fallen in,
And a quiet crawls’round the wall as you gaze,
And has followed the olden din.
Do you mind of the cabin of logs, Ben Bolt?
At the edge of the pathless wood,
And the button-ball tree with its motley limbs,
Which over the house-top stood;
The cabin is carried away, Ben Bolt,
The tree you would seek in vain,
And where once the lords of the forest have waved,
Grow grass and the golden grain.
And don’t you remember the school, Ben Bolt?
With the master so cruel and grim,
And the little nook and the running brook,
Where the children learned to swim,
Grass grows an the master’s grave, Ben Bolt,
The spring of the brook is dry,
And of all the boys that were schoolmates then,
There is only you and I.
There is a change in things I love, Ben Bolt.
They have changed from the old to the new,
But I feel in the core of my spirit the truth,
That there never was a change in you,
Twelve months, twenty, have passed, Ben Bolt,
Since first we were friends. yet I hail
Thy presence a blessing, thy friendship a truth,
Ben Bolt of the Salt Sea Gale.