**Stan Rogers **
(S)he was the captain of the Nightingale
Twenty-one days from Clyde in coal
(S)he could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale
When (s)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 o’erside her mainmast goes
"O captain are we all for drowning,"
Came a cry from all the crew
"The boats be smashed! How are we all then to be saved?
They are stove in through and through
O are ye brave and hardy colliermen
Or are you blind and cannot see
The captain's gig still lies before ye whole and sound
And it shall carry all of we
But when the crew was all assembled
And the gig prepared for sea
'Twas seen there were but eighteen places to be manned
Nineteen mortal souls were we
But cries the captain, "Now do not delay
Nor do you spare a thought for me
My duty is to save you 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