Flowers of Bermuda

He was the Captain of the Nightingale

Twenty-one days from Clyde in coal

He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale

When he died on the North Rock Shoal

Just five short hours from Bermuda in a fine October

gale

There came a cry, “Oh, there be breakers dead ahead!”

From the collier Nightingale

No sooner had the Captain brought her round, came a

rending crash below

Hard on her beam ends, groaning, went the Nightingale

And overside her mainmast goes.

“Oh, Captain, are we all for drowning?” came the cry

from all the crew.

“The boats be smashed! How are we all then to be saved?

They are stove in through and through!”

“Oh, are ye brave and hardy collier-men or are ye blind

and cannot see?

The Captain’s gig still lies before ye whole and sound;

It shall carry all o’ we.”

But when the crew was all assembled and the gig

prepared for sea,

‘Twas seen there were but eighteen places to be manned

And nineteen mortal souls were we.

But cries the Captain “Now, do not delay, nor do ye

spare a thought for me.

My duty is to save ye all now, if I can.

See ye return quick as can be.”

Oh, there be flowers in Bermuda -- beauty lies on every

hand

And there be laughter, ease and drink for every man,

But there is no joy for me

For when we reached the wretched Nightingale what an

awful sight was plain

The Captain, drowned, was tangled in the mizzen-chains

Smiling bravely beneath the sea.

He was the Captain of the Nightingale

Twenty-one days from Clyde in coal

He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale

When he died on the North Rock Shoal