Mad Jenny

It's no other but Mad Jenny, with her fist raised to the sky
On moonless nights she walks the strand to curse the ships she spies
She mutters low so no one hears, and the winds begin to moan
And sure'n the clouds'll cover the stars, the storm starts in to blow.

Oh the waves they can be wicked when Mad Jenny's on a tear
You can hear the sailors bellow as they bring their ships to bear
And the widows light a candle and kneel down beside their bed
For Jenny's on the strand tonight; tomorrow we'll count the dead.