261. The Ocean Burial

 

261
The Ocean Burial

This song, the authorship of which has been in dispute and from
which arose that most widely known of cowboy songs, 'The Lone
Prairie,' has some claim to be considered an American folk song
in its own right. It has been held (Fulton and Trueblood's Choice
Readings, Boston, 1885, P- 169) to be the work of Capt. Wm. H.
Saunders of the United States Army. For pieces akin to it, see
BSM 388. But it now seems clear that, as Barry long ago sug-
gested, it is the work of the Reverend E. H. Chapin; for it is
printed under his name in the Southern Literary Messenger v
615-16 (September, 1839) at a date some years earlier than that
assigned by Saunders' brother for Saunders' composition of it. See
FSONE 245-8. It is reported as traditional song from New Eng-

 

6l2 NORTH CAROLINA FOLKLORE

land (FSONE 245-8), West Virginia (FSS 250-1), Wisconsin
(JAFL Lii 30-1), and now from North Carolina. Its popularity
is evidenced not only by these reports but also by its being used
as the basis of 'The Lone Prairie' — parody being perhaps the most
convincing proof of popularity.

'The Ocean Burial.' Communicated by Miss Mary Morrow oi Greens-
boro, in 1928.

1 'Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea' —
The words came low and mournfully
From the pallid lips of a youth who lay
On his cabin couch at close of day.

He had wasted and pined till o'er his brow
Death's shadow had slowly passed, and now,
When the land and his fond loved home were nigh,
They had gathered around to see him die.

2 'Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea
Where the billowy waves will roll over me,

Where no light will break through the dark cold wave

And no sunbeams rest upon my grave.

It matters not, I've oft been told.

Where the body shall rest when the heart grows cold;

But grant ye, oh, grant ye this boon to me

And bury me not in the deep, deep sea.

3 'For in fancy I've listened to the well known words.
The free wild winds, and the songs of the birds ;

I have thought of home, of cot and of bower,
And of scenes I loved in childhood's hour.
I've ever hoped to be laid when I died
In the churchyard there on the green hillside.
By the home of my father my grave should be.
Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea.

4 'Let my slumber be where a mother's prayer
And a sister's tear shall be mingled there ;
'Twill be sweet ere the heart's gentle throb is o'er
To know, when its fountain shall gush no more,
That those it so fondly hath yearned for will come
To plant the first wild flowers of spring on my tomb ;
Let me He where those loved ones will weep over me.
Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea.

5 'And there is another whose tears would be shed
For him who lay far in an ocean bed.

In hours that it pains me to think of now

She hath twined these locks, and hath kissed this brow.

In the hair she hath wreathed shall the sea-serpents hiss,

 

NATIVE AMERICAN BALLADS 613

And the brow she had ]iressed shall the cold waves kiss?
For the sake of that bright one that waiteth for me
Oh, bury me not in the deep, deej) sea.

6 'She hath been in my dreams' — his voice failed there.
They gave no heed to his dying prayer.
They have lowered him low o'er the vessel's side.
Above him hath closed the dark, cold tide.
Where to dip the light wing the sea bird rests.
And the blue waves dance o'er the ocean's crest.
Where the billows bound, and the winds sport free,
They have buried him there in the deep, deep sea.