While being coop up in the hospital I finished up a rough draft of a song I've written. Any comments any would like to toss out would be helpful. I've no tune yet so I'll have to be working at that soon eough. Thanks Barry.

THE GREAT SEALING DISASTER OF 1914

My name it is George Tuff, I hunt on the Living Ice,
I survived the Greenland Tragedy though 48 had lost their lives,
That was 16 years ago, away back in 98,
Though up till this last hunt, my boys, I never cursed my fate.

We were crew aboard the Newfoundland & held in the grip of ice,
Still the day was very pleasant, the wind breathed no breath of life,
Wes Keene our young commander sent us out on to the pack,
To hunt the precious whitecoat & seek help & bring it back.

We found a small herd of seal we were about 3 hours out,
When a spring breeze from the southeast blew, in some it caused alarm,
On just a pleasant day as this, 16 years now gone by,
No weather eye had seen the change that raised many a mournful cry.

We were 8 score & 16 sealers when 50 turned around,
Not one step further would they take out on that icy sound,
The rest pushed onward 6 more hours till we reached the flag ship of the fleet,
Old man Keene, young Wes's dad refused us food & drink.

T'was the very same night the Bemoth's crew spent the night upon the floe,
They espied a one horned beast howling at them through the snow,
When Captain Billy Windsor heard this tale he kept his crew close by,
Where the Lawrence meets the Gulf all heed strange winter skies.

Across the Gulf the older wooden fleet met the fury of the blow,
For safe shelter of deep bays they ran through howling wind & blinding snow,
But the Southern Cross loaded deep with pelts chose to run before the storm,
She made it past Cape Race, my boys, but she never made it home.

Young Wes took comfort in the thought we were aboard the Stepheno,
With no wireless he was unaware we were set back out on the floe,
With no cup of tea to warm our gut, no heavy coat on our backside,
Worst the thought of being sent back out were the thoughts of how we'd die.

Some fell through the broken pack & some laid down to die,
Others crawled on hands & feet gone black, still others sat & cried,
50 sealers from the ice were saved, most were maimed for life,
Near 80 souls had past on through those 2 nights on the ice.

The captains all were ordered still, to keep on with the kill,
But mutiny spread about the fleet, no hunter had the will,
As news had spread throughout the Gulf that our lives weren't worth a skin,
The seal skin trade, it died that night with 250 men.

The owners of the sealing fleets knew with the war coming on along with the competition of more modern foreign fleets & the use of oils from cheaper sources & the reduction in the whitecoat population that this year would be the last of the great hunts. Ships were stripped of valued aids like their wireless's, The older wooden fleet got no much needed maintenance before putting out & some skippers had very little experience but had the pull. All of these events amounted to this being the death of this industry though it still continued on a much smaller scale from time to time. Again thanks for any comments. Barry

line breaks added, hopefully in the right spots
great song, Barry!
okay, let me know if that is right now, for line breaks, please
and, I changed it to "unaware"
joe clone