Coffin Ship

The sky is black, as the sun goes down. 

Erin's land, a hollow ground.

The sickle moon swings sharp and bright,

with the famine's hungry light. 

From the empty fields and empty graves,

where once the seas of barley waved. 

Down to the bay, the starving slip to board their coffin ships. 

 

While the wind of death it fills our sails,

with silent screams and whispering wails.

Through the soul it cuts just like a knife, 

but blows on towards new life. 

The waves are full of hungry eyes,

and stabbing teeth, as the tempests rise.

The sky grows dark above the devil's ark,

they call the coffin ship.

 

CHORUS

Way! Hey! Listen to the wind blow.

Heave! Ho! Feel the cold Atlantic flow.

Way! Hey! Hear the devil down below.

Heave! Ho! Don't look back now -- here we go.

 

The year is 1848,

fleeing from our father's fate.

Two weeks ago we left the port to sail

through death for better shores.

Worth less than the price we paid

for passage on this floating grave.

"Westward!" goes the ghostly son.

"America!" now sing along.

 

While the wind of death it fills our sails, 

with silent screams and whispering wails. 

Through the soul it cuts just like a knife,  

but blows on towards new life.  

The waves are full of hungry eyes, 

and stabbing teeth, as the tempests rise. 

The sky grows dark above the devil's ark, 

they call the coffin ship.

 

REPEAT CHORUS

 

Mother's lying sick and old

with the dying in the hold.

She hopes that she can just hold on,

we know it won't be long.

When yonder part the hunting clouds

that drape our coffin like a shroud.

A gentle Boston breeze blows in

and life begins again.

 

While the wind of death it fills our sails, 

with silent screams and whispering wails. 

Through the soul it cuts just like a knife,  

but blows on towards new life.  

The waves are full of hungry eyes, 

and stabbing teeth, as the tempests rise. 

The sky grows dark above the devil's ark, 

they call the coffin ship.

 

REPEAT CHORUS