In my opinion the finest song of the Coffin Ships ever written was Brendan Nolan's "Far From Their Homes", in which the brave and compassionate Canadians, and the place they lived in, figure prominently. Here are the lyrics:

FAR FROM THEIR HOME
A SONG OF GROSSE ILE

^DOH WE LEFT OUR HOMES AND TRAVELLED, THOUGH ^GMANY NOT KNOW WHERE WE ^ALIE.
THEY ^DSAID TWAS A LAND OF PROMISE, BUT ^GFEW SAW IT ^DWITH THEIR OWN ^AEYES.
FOR ITS ^BmHERE ON THIS SAD LONELY ^AISLAND, WHERE THE ^GWIND BLOWS COLD TO THE ^ABONE.
WE ^DREST IN IT'S SOIL FOR^GGOTTEN, ^DFAR ^AAWAY FROM OUR ^DHOME

^DON THE FOURTEENTH DAY OF JUNE, OUR ^GPACKET IT SET ^ASAIL.
^DDOWN THE EASTERN COAST WE WOUND, PAST ^GWEXFORD ^DAND ^AKINSALE
TILL ^BmSADLY THE SUNSET ^AFADED ^GGENTLY FROM OUR ^AEYES.
AND THE ^DLIGHTS OF THE SOUTHWEST ^GFLICKERED AWAY, AS WE ^DSAID OUR ^ALAST GOODDBYE.

OH IT'S HARD TO DESCRIBE THE SUFFERING, AS THIS AWFUL VOYAGE BEGAN.
TWO WEEKS OUT TO SEA, WE HAD LOST 10 OR MORE AS THE FEVER TOOK THE STRONGEST OF MEN.
AND THE HOLDS WERE BATTENED FOR DAYS ON END, TO STIFLE THE SICKNESS BELOW.
WHILE THE WATERS OF THE OCEAN SWALLOWED OUR DEAD, FAR AWAY FROM THEIR HOME.

(WHISTLE INTERLUDE)

THOUGH OUR SPIRITS THEY WERE WEARY, AS THE GREAT BROAD RIVER BEGAN.
AND A WHALE ROSE UP FROM THE WATERS, AS WE SAILED INTO THIS NEW LAND.
WITH IT'S HILLSIDES THAT SLOPED TOWARD THE SHORELINE AND VILLAGES CRADLED WITHIN.
WE PRAYED THAT THESE PEOPLE COULD PITY OUR PLIGHT,AND FIND A NEW HOME FOR OUR KIN.

WITHIN SIGHT OF GROSSE ILE, WE WERE ANCHORED FAR OFF ASHORE.
FOR MANY MORE SHIPS LAY WAITING, AND WE'ED STAY MAYBE FIVE DAYS OR MORE.
FOR THE LOST ONES OUTNUMBERED THE LIVING, AND A TERRIBLE SIGHT IT WAS PLAIN.
AS A PACKET FLOATED OUT IN THE BAY, WITH IT'S HUMAN CARGO AFLAME.

AND THE SHEDS OVERFLOWED WITH THE SUFFERING, AND THEIR CRIES PIERCED THE SILENCE AT NIGHT.
AND THESE BRAVE ONES WHO TENDED THESE TRAVELLERS, SOME PAID WITH THEIR LIVES IN THE FIGHT.
AND I'VE LOST MY OWN ON THIS ISLAND AND MY OWN CANDLE'S NEAR DIED AWAY.
TO HAVE TRAVELLED SO FAR ON OUR JOURNEY, HUMBLE VOYAGERS TOGETHER WE'LL STAY.

(WHISTLE INTERLUDE)

JE M'APPELLE LEO QUINN, MES ANCETRES SONT ICI.
ENTERRES SUR GROSSE ILE, QUI FAIT FACE A MA VILLE MONTMAGANY
MES SOUVENIRS NE SONT QUE DES FANTOMES, QUI SURVOLLENT ET DANSET DANS LE VENT.
ILS DEMANDENT QU'ON SE SOUVIENS D'EUX, MEME SI CE N'EST QU'EN CHANTANT.

THERE ARE NO BOATS TIED IN THE RIVER, AND THE CROSS STANDS GAUNT ON THE HILL.
NO WRETCHED SHADOWS TROD FROM THE SHORE, TO THE FEVER SHEDS NOW THAT LIE STILL.
JUST THE WHITE MARKERS GUARD THEIR MEMORY, NO NAMES CARVED IN GRANITE OR STONE.
AND THE LONG GRASS WAVES TO THE WIND AS SHE BLOWS, OER THESE BRAVE ONES FAR FROM THEIR HOME.
AND THE LONG GRASS WAVES TO THE WIND AS SHE BLOWS, OER THESE BRAVE ONES FAR FROM THEIR HOME.