On the Banks of Newfoundland



T’was the peerless ship ‘Titanic,’
Largest of the White Star: fleet,
Speeding on the wide Atlantic,
Soon an awful doom to meet.
Suddenly she struck an iceberg,
When still many miles from land,
And she sank a few hours after
On the Banks of Newfoundland.

Sixteen hundred souls must perish,
Fate that doth our hearts appal,
There are not sufficient lifeboats,
So they cannot save them all.
Some are borne away to safety,
Some, alas! are left to die;
In that stricken sinking steamer,
Soon beneath the wave to be.

Wives refuse to leave their husbands,
In that awful hour of strife;
Choosing death with those they cherish
To the offered chance of life.
Oh, such love, such noble courage,
Seldom have weak mortals shown.
Braver men and nobler women
Never have the nation known.

Oh, today, there’s grief and mourning
And some bitter tears are shed;
O’er the loss of many dear ones,
Who are numbered with the dead.
And our prayers ascend to heaven
To the God who rules above,
That he may console the mourners
With his soothing words of love.

Mourn ye winds, and wail ye tempest
Where the silent victims sleep;
Sing a requiem ye billows
O’er their grave, so cold and deep.
There they sleep beneath the waters
In the silent ocean bed,
Till the trumpet of God shall wake them,
And the sea shall yield her dead.

Henceforth may no mighty steamers
Speeding on the rolling sea;
Be without sufficient lifeboats,
Wheresoever they may be.
Be no more such great disasters,
Causing grief throughout the land,
As the loss of the ‘Titanic’
On the Banksof Newfoundland.

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