This text is related to DT#2. It comes from Fenwick Hatt's notebook. Captain Fenwick Hatt was born and grew up in Port Medway. He sailed in windjammers out of Liverpool, N.S. In 1885 he left the sea and set up a firm to make ironworks for sailing vessels in Liverpool. His forge was the scene of chantymen's contests. While he was a sailor, probably prior to 1883, he kept a notebook or scribbler containing ballads popular with the sailor men. ("Sea Songs and Ballads from Nineteenth Century Nova Scotia: the William H Smith and Fenwick Hatt Manuscripts" edited by Edith Fowke, 1981 Folklorica Press)

THE BANKS OF NEWFOUNDLAND

Ye landsmen all on you I call
And jolly seamen to
While I relate the hard ships fate
That we have late gon through
Oh you little know of the hardships
That we were force to stand
For fourteen days and fourteen nights
On the banks of Newfoundland

Oh our vessel never crossed before
That stormy western sea
She was well rigged and fitted out
Before she sailed away
She was built of green and seasoned oak
But could not well withstand
The hurricane that met her
On the banks of Newfoundland

Our bodies was benumbed with cold
From the day we left Quebec
Our boots unless we kep walking
Would freeze fast to the deck
We were stout hardy Irishmen
That this brave vessel manned
Our Captain doubled each mans grog
The wind did blow from sunset
Till the cold wintry morning dawned
We drifted of to leward
Too of our masts were gone
We lashed ourselves to the misen shrouds
And there in vain did plan
To hoist a signal of distress
On the banks of Newfoundland

Oh it was thre days we fasted
Our provisions being run out
Andon the morning of the fourth
We did cast lots about
The lot fell on the captains son
Who thought relief near hand
We spared him for another day
On the banks of Newfoundland

It was on the morning of the fifth
The lad we did prepare
We gave him one more hour
To offer up a prayer
But bountiful providence
From blood spared every man
When an english vessel hove in sight
On the banks of Newfoundland

Oh when they took us from the wreck
We were more like ghosts than men
They clothed us and fed us
And took us home again
There was but few of our number
That ere reached english land
Our Captain lost his limbs by frost
On the banks of Newfoundland

Besides the Captain and the mate
We had ten of a crew
Ten passengers returning home
Which made up twenty two
For to bring their families over
All from their native land
Expecting soon to cross again
The banks of Newfoundland

Now all that is remaining
Or belonging to our crew
There is but four to tell the tale
Of passengers but two
Their friends may she salt tears for them
All in their native land
While the mountain waves roll over their graves
On the banks of Newfoundland

The lack of punctuation and the unusual spellings (I hope) are Hatt's

rich r ^^