|
SOURCE:
J M FORDE CORRESPONDENCE FILES - MSQ377.381 Dated circa 1900 Sent in by a contributor (handwritten) to 'Old Chum' column in Truth SITE SOURCE: Sydney Folklore Project - Section 7: MARITIME Wreck of the Steam Ship London'Twas on the sixth moon of the yearLong ere the break of day The London for Australia's shore Steamed out of Plymouth Bay As over the breezy channel waves The good ship swiftly tore How many, many weeping eyes Looked back on England's shore? Ah, and how many weeping ones Gazed from the English strand And saw with tears and hopes and fears The London leaves the land How many prayers were that day Upon the land and sea God comfort those we leave behind And with them ever be The Captain stood behind the wheel Proud of his ship was he He looked up at the darkening sky And looked along the sea. 'Tis as I thought twill come to blow Before the break of day Then let it come and welcome too I give my good ship sway The morning dawned in gloom and rain The weaves tossed wild and far The wind came down in angry jets And shook each mast and spa And there was doubt on many a lip And fear in many an eye As the big waves broke and swept like hail Along the topmast high But when they saw their Captain's eye Where terror ne'er yet shone And when they heard his hopeful word Their doubt and fear were gone Still on, still on, through lashing rain On through the driving spray While the wind shrieked loud in shed and shroud The good ship held her sway Another day dawned, dull and grey And wilder blew the gale Blast, after blast, till down went mast And spar and shroud and sail Heavily, heavily rose the ship From the raging swell And heavily, heavily in the storm Of the mountain waves she fell With deepening night in grand might Down came the awful storm And on the swell up rose and fell The London's battered form. Then in an hour that might appal The bravest man of men The captain shouted, turn her head To Plymouth once again 'Twas done, alas, 'twas done in vain For ere the close of day The good ship settled down and sank In Biscay's stormy bay Oh, let us hope while to her doom The fated ship was driven Each life last word and prayer were heard Each sinner was forgiven And when she sank, that eve soul Was rafted to that shore Where death divided friends shall meet And partings are no more
|