The brave Eliza spread her sails that morning in the bay,
And soon before a freshening breeze was speeding on her way;
Fort Amherst heard their youthful crew sing cheerily as they passed,
But at Fort Amherst, little knew that sailing was their last.
Only the seabirds overhead encircling in the blue,
Screamed down the wind in fear as if they some strange terror knew;
Far in the offing fog drifts sweep, like spectres flee to them,
Is to ensnare some other ship, another prize to gain.
Yet cheerily the Eliza's crew intoned their sailing song,
And merrily their good ship bounds the sunlight waves along;
The dark spray sparkling round her bow gives promise fair that day,
How false that promise now we know in sad St. Mary's Bay!
And storms have come to Newfoundland by stealth and treachery,
The foul nor'easter's chilly hand is black with tragedy;
So the brave schooner Eliza on this October day,
Must match her all unequal strength with furrows that cross her way.
Quick sped the gallant schooner Eliza up the shore,
Close to the wind she's hauling like many a time before;
With Captain James Ahearn to keep her tiller true,
His brother and young Bunyan all sturdy sailors, too.
Who have bettered many a tempest wave thru nights of stress & dread.
To reach their destination home, St. Mary's Riverhead;
But many a hardy sailor has sailed far, far seas to roam,
To grief when near some beacon clear that lights the way to home.
Torrential rain strikes on the main like to a hand of hate,
The waters near grow white with fear at what may be in wait;
Then burst the gale on spar and sail, the shocked Eliza reeled,
And shuddered like something of life that sees its doom revealed.
With riven sail before the gale the staunch Eliza flew,
With sturdy heart 'twas done the part of her courageous crew;
As fiercely raged the storm-swept waves and darker groaned the skies,
But none can tell what was befell that crew of gallant b'ys.
Right violently they fought, we know, for they were heroes bred,
Where sea-bred fisher sires reside, St. Mary's Riverhead;
Dark night and storm enwraps her form, the warring billows roar,
A hurricane her timbers strain, she'll sail in pride no more.
And sad to say, it's told today throughout our little town,
That not a word was ever heard where this good ship went down;
Their light seen on the darkening main by Captain Welsh and crew,
From off the trasher's storm-swept deck is all we ever knew.
Written (per oral history) by a school-teacher whose fiancé was the Eliza's captain.
Note: Collected by Ken Peacock and published in Songs Of The Newfoundland Outports, Volume 3, pp.944-947, by The National Museum of Canada (1965) Crown Copyrights Reserved, and recorded on the album Songs and Ballads of Newfoundland, Folkways FG 3505, LP (1956) cut#A.06
Note: Although there is no factual report of the loss of the Eliza, the story is similar to that of the Southern Cross, lost in April, 1914, with 170 aboard.