The Loss of the Atlantic Steamship
You feeling-hearted Christians of high and low degree,
I hope you'll pay attention and now listen unto me.
While I relate the awful fate of countrymen so brave
Who were going to seek a fortune, when they met with a watery grave.
The Atlantic was our good ship's name, as you may understand;
With sixty of a gallant crew, most nobly she was manned.
Besides nine hundred passengers with hearts both light and gay
Who little thought 'twould be their fate to sleep within the sea.
'Twas from the docks of Liverpool our gallant ship set sail,
'Twas on the sixth of April, with a sweet and pleasant gale.
She had some hundred Irishmen, who on her deck did flock,
And they gave three cheers for Ireland, as she moved out from the dock.
For eleven days she ploughed the seas, and all things went on well,
And before that sad twelfth morning what a dismal tale to tell
We steered our course for Halifax, till just at two o'clock,
It was by a false ill-fated light our good ship struck the rock.
The night was dark and gloomy, and the seas rolled mountains high;
Our captain should have known right well the danger it was nigh.
He cared not for our safety as you may plainly see;
He went to bed and left the ship to prove our destiny.
And in a short time after, both passengers and crew,
All rushed on deck and screamed for help, not knowing what to do.
Now wasn't that an awful shock, that night and they in bed,
When our gallant ship she struck a rock at a place called Meagher's Head.
Oh! had they landed in New York, their friends would happy be;
But alas, these sons of Erin sleep in the briny sea.
Our steamboat, the Atlantic, she sank to rise no more,
And many an aching heart is left around green Erin's shore.
From Irish Songs of the Sea, Healy