I just got in from a very long 23 hours on the road to find this. Many thanks to you Peter T. for the lovely translation. It is even more beautiful than I thought.

Brother Jack, thank you for the URL to the website, I am going to visit it as soon as I get done here.

Joe, I don't think I can add much to what has been stated, other than to tell you that if you ever have the chance to see Brendan Nolan perform, you should. He is an excellent singer songwriter. In fact, I think that I will post the lyrics to "Far From Their Home" now.

FAR FROM THEIR HOME (A SONG OF GROSSE ILE)

Oh we left our homes and travelled, though many not know where we lie.
They said ’twas a land of promise, but few saw it with their own eyes.
For it's here on this sad lonely island, where the wind blows cold to the bone,
We rest in its soil forgotten, far away from our home

On the fourteenth day of June, our packet it set sail.
Down the eastern coast we wound, past Wexford and Kinsale
Till sadly the sunset faded gently from our eyes
And the lights of the south-west flickered away, as we said our last goodbye.

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 its 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 shore.
For many more ships lay waiting, and we’d 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 its 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 ancêtres sont ici.
Enterres sur Grosse Île, qui fait face a ma ville Montmagny
Mes souvenirs ne sont que des fantômes, qui survolent et dansent dans le vent.
Ils demandent qu'on se souviens d'eux, même 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, o’er these brave ones far from their home.
And the long grass waves to the wind as she blows, o’er these brave ones far from their home.