I always reckon the Flying Cloud is the ultimate folk song(English language, anyway). And of course it is about the Pride of Baltimore, and sailed out of the Chesapeake Bay. What more could you want, the memorable savagery of the lyrics, the piracy, the slaving voyages, execution. It has the lot.

My name is Arthur Hollandin,
As you may understand
I was born ten miles from Dublin Town,
Down by the salt-sea strand,
When I was young and comely,
Sure, good fortune on me shone,
My parents loved me tenderly
For I was their only son.

2. My father he rose up one day
And with him I did go,
He bound me as apprentice
To Pearson of Wicklow,
I wore the bloody apron there
For three long years and more,
Till I shipped on board of The Ocean Queen
Belonging to Tramore.

3. It was on Bermuda's sunny isle
That I met with Captain Moore,
The skipper of The Flying Cloud,
The pride of Baltimore,
I undertook to ship with him
On a slaving voyage to go,
To the burning shores of Africa,
Where the sugar cane does grow.

4. It all went well until the day
We reached old Africa's shore,
And five hundred of them weeping slaves
From their native land we bore,
We bound them round with iron chains
And made them walk below,
And eighteen inches of space
Was all that each man had to show.

5. The plague it came and fever too
It killed them off like flies,
We piled their bodies on the deck
And hove them o'er the side,
For sure, the dead were lucky then
They'd have to weep no more,
Nor drag the chain and feel the lash
In Cuba for evermore.

6. But now our money was all spent,
We must go to sea once more,
And all but five remained to hear
The words of Captain Moore,
"There's gold and silver to be had
If with me you'll remain,
Let's hoist the pirate flag aloft
And sweep the Spanish Main."

7. The Flying Cloud was a Yankee ship,
Five hundred tons or more,
She could outsail any clipper ship
From out of Baltimore,
With her canvas white as driven snow
And on it there's no specks,
And forty men and fourteen guns
She carried below her decks.

8. We plundered many a gallant ship
Down on the Spanish Main,
Killed many a man and left his wife
And children to remain,
To none we showed no kindness
But gave them watery graves,
For the saying of our captain was:
"Dead men tell no tales."

9. We ran and fought with many a ship,
Both frigates and liners too,
Till, at last, a British man-o-war,
The Dunmow, hove in view,
She fired a shot across our bows
As we ran before the wind,
And a chainshot cut our mainmast down
And we fell far behind.

10. We beat our crew to quarters
As they drew up alongside,
And soon across our quarter-deck
There ran a crimson tide,
We fought until they killed our captain
And twenty of our men,
Then a bombshell set our ship on fire,
We had to surrender then.

11. It's now to Newgate I am come,
Bound down with iron chains ,
For the sinking and the plundering
Of ships on the Spanish Main,
The judge he has condemned us
And we are condemned to die.
Young men a warning by me take
And shun all piracy.

There are a million versions, that's mine.