Obviously there has been more than one ship named the Amphitrite. This is about one of them, the same one mentioned in the Traditional Ballad Index.

From the Bodleian ballad collection, Johnson Ballads 1947. (I have added punctuation.)


LOSS OF THE AMPHITRITE

Come list, you gallant Englishmen who ramble at your ease,
While I unfold the horrors and the dangers of the seas.
It's of the ship, the Amphitrite, with a hundred and eight females
And children, crew, and cargo, bound all for New South Wales.

'Twas on August 25th we sail'd from Woolwich shore,
Leaving our friends behind us, whose hearts were grievéd sore.
Along the shore away we bore till friends were out of sight,
Who crying said, "Adieu, poor girls aboard the Amphitrite!"

We sail'd away without delay and arriv'd off Dungeness,
But when we came off port Boulogne, then great was our distress.
On Friday morning, the fourth day, O, what a horrid sight!
Who crying said, "Adieu, poor girls aboard the Amphitrite!"[*]

Our captain found she was near aground, her anchor did let go,
Crying, "Set your main and topsails, boys, or soon your fate you'll know!"
The raging sea ran mountains high; the tempest did unite.
Poor souls in vain did shriek with pain on board the Amphitrite.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, we were put to a stand.
Our fatal ship she ran aground upon a bank of sand.
Poor children round their parents hung, who tore their hair with fright
To think that they should end their days on board the Amphitrite.

Our moments they were ending fast, and all prepared to die.
We on our bended knees did fall, and loud for mercy cry.
Our ship she gave a dreadful roll and soon went out of sight.
O, the bitter cries could reach the skies on board the Amphitrite!

Great praise belongs unto the French who tried us all to save.
Our captain he was obstinate to brave the stormy wave,
But he went down among the rest all in the briny sea,
The rocks beneath the pathless deep his pillow for to be.

The crew were toss'd and all were lost but two poor lads and me,
For on a spar we reach'd the shore and dar'd the raging sea,
But one exhausted by the waves, he died that very night,
So only two were sav'd o' the crew of the fatal Amphitrite.

So now the Amphitrite is gone, her passengers and crew.
O, think upon the sailor bold that wears the jacket blue!
God grand relief to end the grief of those distracted quite,
Lamenting sore for those no more on board the Amphitrite.
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N. B.—The above ship was lost off Boulogne, August 31, 1833, having on board 108 female convicts, who perished, together with twelve children, and thirteen of the crew!
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W. & T. Fordyce, Printers, Dean Street, Newcastle.
To be had also at: No. 43, Myton Gate, Hull.


[* I find it odd that this line is identical to the last line of the previous verse. It doesn't fit here; there is no antecedent for "who." It makes me suspect it is a clumsy substitution for some line that was forgotten or inadvertently omitted.—JD]