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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.
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.
Oh Captain are we all for drowning? came the cry from all the crew.
The boats 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.
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.
But when the gig was all assembled and the gig prepared for sea,
‘Twas seen there were but eighteen places to be manned
Nineteen mortal soles 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.
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.
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.