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118 Songs and Ballads
11 Oh, the Flying Cloud was a Spanish ship
Of five hundred tons or more, She would outsail any other ship I ever saw before.
12 Her sails were like the drifting snow,
On them there was no stain, And eighteen brass nine-pounder guns She carried abaft her main.
13 We sailed away without delay
Till we came to the African shore, And eighteen hundred of those poor slaves From their native isle sailed o'er.
14 For we marched them all along our decks
And stored them down below, And eighteen inches for a man Was all that they could go.
15 The very next day we sailed away
With our cargo of slaves, T would have been much better for those poor slaves Had they been in their graves;
16 For the plague and fever came on board,
Swept half of them away; We dragged the dead up on the decks . And threw them in the sea.
17 We sailed away without delay
Till we came to the Cuban shore. We sold them to a planter there To be slaves forevermore; |
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