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作曲 : Traditional Song |
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Oh! shipmates, come, gather, and join in my ditty; |
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Of a terrible battle that happened, of late: |
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Let each Union-Tar shed a tear of his pity, |
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When he thinks of the once gallant Cumberland's fate. |
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The Eight day of March told a terrible story, |
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When many a brave tar to this world bid: Adieu! |
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Our Flag it was wrapt in a mantle of glory |
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By the heroic deeds of the Cumberland's crew. |
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On that ill-fated day, about ten in the morning, |
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The sky it was cloudless, and bright shone the Sun: |
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The drums of the Cumberland sounded a warning |
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That told every seaman to stand by his gun. |
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An Iron-clad Frigate down on us came bearing, |
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High up in the air her base Rebel Flag flew; |
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An emblem of Treason she proudly was waving, |
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Determined to conquer the Cumberland's crew. |
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Now, up spoke our Captain with stern resolution, |
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Saying: boys, of this monster now don't be afraid, |
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We swore to maintain our beloved Constitution, |
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And to die for our Country we are not afraid! |
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We fight for our Union: our cause it is glorious, |
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By the Stars and the Stripes we will ever stand true. |
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We'll sink at our quarters, or conquer victorious! |
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Was answered, by cheers, by the Cumberland's crew. |
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Our noble ship fired with guns' dreadful thunder, |
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Our broad-side, like hail, on the Rebel did pore: |
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The people gazed on, struck with terror and wonder: |
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As the shots struck her sides, and glanced harmless o'er; |
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But the pride of our Navy could never be daunted, |
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Tho' the decks with the dead and the wounded did strew: |
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The stars spangled banner how proudly it flaunted, |
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It was hailed to the mast by the Cumberland's crew! |
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They fought us three hours, with stern resolution, |
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Till these Rebels found cannon would never decide; |
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For, the Flag of Secession has no power to gall them, |
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Tho' the blood from our scuppers it crimsond the tide; |
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She struck us amidst-ship, our planks she did sever; |
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Her sharp Iron-prong pierced our noble ship through: |
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And they cried, as they sunk on that dark rolling river, |
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We'll die at our guns! cried the Cumberlands crew. |
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Slowly she sank in the dark rolling waters, |
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Their voices on earth will be heard ne'er more |
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They'll be wept by Columbia's brave sons and fair daughters, |
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May their blood be avenged on Virginia's old shore. |
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And if ever sailors in battle assemble |
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God bless our dear Banner, the Red, White and Blue! |
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Beneath its proud folds, we'll cause tyrans to tremble, |
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Or sink at our guns, like the Cumberland's crew! |
