Fifteen Ships on Georges' Banks
Come all you bold, undaunted ones.
Who brave the winter cold,
And you that sail on Georges' Banks
Where thousands have been lost.
Come all you sad and grieving mothers,
And wives and sweethearts too,
Likewise you loving sisters
Who bade them last adieu.
Twas on The first of February,
In eighteea sixty-two,
Three vessels sailed from Gloucester
With each a hearty crew.
The course they steered was east-south-east,
Cape Ann passed out of sight;
They anchored on the Banks that night,
With everything all right
The thoughts of home and loving friends
Did fill their hearts full sore,
For well convinced were all those men
They'd see their homes no more.
No tongue can e'er describe the sea,
The sky was thick with snow;
Fifteen sails did founder there,
And down to bottom go.
One hundred and forty-nine brave men,
So lately left their land,
Now sleep beneath the Georges' Bank
Those rough and shifting sands.
One hundred and seventy children
Those men have left on shore,
With seventy mournful widows
Their sorrows to endure
I hope they will be reconciled
And not give up to grief,
There is a widow's God above,
And He will give relief.
There were many in the army,
And in the navy too,
Who mourn and grieve in private,
Who will sympathize with you.
You will at times think of home,
Of days that's past and gone,
When by their sides their husbands sat,
And cheerful was their song.
So now adieu to Georges' Banks,
That place I now despise,
For many a storm I've braved out there,
And heard the widows cry.
So bid adieu to Georges' Banks,
Dry up your tearful eyes,
Prepare to meet your God above,
And dwell beyond the skies.
Taken down from the singing a Mr. Henry Bunker of Cranberry Isles
Maine. by Mrs. Alton Bunker, of Seal Harbor, Maine, and contributed
in July, 1924.
From Minstrelsy of Maine, page 281; Collected by Fannie H Eckstorm
& Mary W. Smyth.; 1927