Captain Glen- Forget-Me-Not Songster c.1846 Boston
["Captain Glen's Unhappy Voyage to New Barbary" is a broadside traced back to England in the 1770s and a later printing in 1794. The text was reprinted in A pedlar's Pack of Ballads and Songs: With illustrative notes - Page 47 by William Hugh Logan, James Maidment- 1869. This is nearly Identical to Captain Glen from Forget-Me-Not Songster c.1846, printed in Boston. An earlier broadside with the same text was printed by Leonard Deming circa 1829 in Boston.
R. Matteson 2012, 2014]
CAPTAIN GLEN- from the Forget-Me-Not Songster c.1846, Boston
There was a ship, and a ship of fame
Launch'd off the stocks, bound to the main,
With a hundred and fifty brisk young men,
Was pick'd and chosen every one.
William Glen was our captain's name,
He was a tall and brisk- young man,
As bold a sailor as ever went to sea,
And he was bound to New-Barbary.
The first of April when we did set sail,
Blest with a sweet and prosperous gale,
For we were bound to New-Barbary,
With all our whole ship"s company.
We had not sail'd a day but two,
'Till all our whole ship's jovial crew,
They all fell sick, but sixty-three,
As we went to New-Barbary.
One night the captain he did dream,
There came a voice which said to him,
Prepare you and your company,
To-morrow night you must lodge with me.
This wak'd the captain in a fright,
Being the third watch of the night,
Then for his boatswain he did call,
And told to me his secrets all.
When I in England did remain,
The holy Sabbath I did profane,
In drunkenness I took delight,
Which doth my trembling soul affright.
There's one thing more I've to rehearse,
Which I shall mention in this verse,
A Squire I slew in Staffordshire,
All for the love of a lady fair.
Now 'tis his ghost I am afraid,
That hath to me such terror bred;
Although the king has pardoned mo,
He's daily in my company.
O, worthy Captain, since 'tis so,
No mortal of it e'er shall know,
So keep your secret in your breast,
And pray to God to give you rest.
They had not sail'd a league but three,
Till raging grew the roaring sea,
There rose a tempest in the skies,
Which fill'd our hearts with great surprise.
Our mainmast sprung by break of day,
Which made our rigging all give way,
This did our seamen sore affright,
The terrors of that fatal night.
He then spoke our foremost man,
As he did by the fore-yard stand,
He cried, the Lord receive my soul,
Bo to the bottom he did fall.
The sea did wash both fore and aft,
Till scarce one sail on board was left;
Our yards were split and our rigging tore,
The like was never seen before
The boatswain then he did declare,
The captain was a murderer.
Which did enrage the whole ship's crew
Our captain overboard they threw.
Our treacherous oaptain being gone,
Immediately there was a calm,
The winds did calm, and the raging set,
As we went to New-Barbary.
Now when we came to the Spanish shore
Our goodly ship for to repair,
The people all were amazed to see,
Our dismal ease and misery.
But when our ship was in repair,
To fair England our course did steer,
And when we came to London town,
Our dismal case was then made known.
Now many wives their husbands lost,
Which they lamented to their cost,
And caused them to weep bitterly,
These tidings from New-Barbary.
A hundred and fifty brisk young men,
Did to our goodly ship belong,
Of all our whole ship's company,
Our number was but seventy-three.
Now seamen all where'er you be,
I pray a warning take by me;
As you love yoir life, still have a care,
You never sail with a murderer.
'Tis never more I do intend,
For to cross over the raging main,
But I'll live in peace in my own country,
And so I end my tragedy.