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American Ballads and Folk Songs
So in a short while after we reached the African shore,
And eighteen hundred of those poor men from their native home
we bore, We crowded them upon the deck and stored them all below With eighteen inches to the man, was all they had to go.
We set sail shortly after with our cargo of slaves.
'Twas better then for those poor souls if they had seen their graves—
The plague and fever came on board and swept them half away}
We dragged their bodies on the deck and throwed them on the waves.
'Twas in a short time after we reached the Cuban shore, And sold them to the planters there to be slaves for evermore, Where the tea and coffee fields do grow beneath the burning sun, To lead a long and wretched life till their long career is done.
Well, when our money was spent we struck out for sea again, And Captain Moore he came on board and said to us, his men, "There's gold and silver to be had if with me you'll remain, We'll hoist the Haughty Pirate's flag and scour the Spanish Main."
At last we all consented, excepting five young men,
Two of them were Boston boys, two more from Newfoundland,
The other was an Irish lad belonging to Try More—
I wish to God I'd joined those men and staid with them on shore.
We robbed and plundered many a ship along the Spanish Main, Left many a widow and orphan in sorrow to remain. Their crews, we made them walk the plank, gave them a watery grave, For the saying of our captain was that dead men tell no tales.
We were chased it was full many a time by lines and frigates too. Full many a time across our bows their burning shells they threw, Full many a time astern of us their cannon roared loud, But 'twas vain for them who'd ever try to catch the Flying Cloud.