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New song on the melancholy loss of the emigrant ship, Anglo-Saxon

(16) New song on the melancholy loss of the emigrant ship, Anglo-Saxon

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  A new Song on the melaneloly loss of
               the Emigrant Ship,


        On her passage to America.

I call on every Irishman to listen to my song
About the Anglo-Saxon it wont detain you
Two hundred and fifty Emsgrant's from Ire-
land did set sail,
They bid adieu both men and crew to poor
old Granuaile.

From Liverpool this ship set sail for Quebec
and Montreal,
In a fog on the 27th of April they could not
see at all,
Near to Cape Race our good ship stuck most
dismal for to view.
The waves did dash, the ship did crash, and
then she went in two.

To see the mothers dressed in white tossed on
the briny wave.
Saying aloud to heaven and the crew their
children then to save,
No one was there to save the wreck no, no,
nor time to pray,
They were oppressed poor Irishmen at home
they could not stay.

The Good ship went in pieces 'midst raging
dashing spray,
All were distressed and moaning upon the rag-
ing sea,
The mothers screaming loudly—my infants,
husbands save,
While their shrill cry, woul I make you sigh—
they sank beneath the wave.

Captain Burgess had the engines immediately
While sever I of those Emigrants stood shiver-
ing and undressed ;
That cruel treacherous cragy rock had lurked
beneath the wave,
To finish Devastation's work on Irishmen so

Poor Irishmen are wasting now on sea as well
as land,
Between war and tribulations they can't much
longer stand ;
They fought, 'tis true, for England, a thousand
battles o'er,
But now they're leaving Ireland, ne'er to re-
turn more.

The American war going on abroad which fills
the land with lood,
While thousands are go ng from Kinsale, for
want of work or food ;
Their houses in Saint Patrick's land are level-
ed to the ground,
And good men now so happy once, are no where
to be found.

The masts and spars and rigging went just as
she broke in two,
The boats belonging to the ship could hold but
very few ;
The drowning bodies floating round would
pierce your hearts full sore,
May the Lord have mercy on their souls they
were from country tore.               

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