The Wreck Of The Isidore

On the last day of November in 1842
The ship Isidore stood ready to sail with sixteen men in her crew
When up spoke a sailor named Thomas King saying "Captain, hear my tale"
I have had a terrible dream, I fear that we should not sail

Hear my plea, don't leave this day, he said to Captain Foss
In my dream our ship was wrecked, and all aboard were lost
Then another sailor he spoke up loud said I too have had such a dream
Of seven coffins on the shore, my own dead face I have seen

The Captain laughed said raise the anchor, we're off and southward bound
When she sailed into the icy wind, Tom King could not be found
She had scarce left the bay when the weather gave way, the wind blew into a gale
Darker grew the moonless sky, the snow it filled the sails

So we sing once more of the Isidore, of the cold New England sea
Where the hand of fate and a sailor's life forever twined shall be

The big waves rolled through the waters cold, fierce blew the wind and snow
Through the frosty spray did the captain say, all hands from below

Then the main mast sprung and the rigging gave way, helplessly she tossed
Then an awful sound as her keel struck ground, (and) the Isidore was lost

On Cape Neddick shore next morn was seen, the wreckage all strewn round
In the ice and drifting snow, seven cold bodies were found
One was the sailor who in his dream, the seven coffins had spied
Captain Foss was forever lost, not a single man survived

So we sing once more of the Isidore, of the cold New England sea
Where the hand of fate and a sailor's life forever twined shall be

These words are carved on a fading stone, where the Captain's grave does lie
"May this event God sanctify, and prepare us all to die"
And sometimes when the moon is dark and the snow flies on the sea
The fisherman say that a ghost ship sails those waters cold and free

With a phantom crew in the misty light, they walk 'mid the frozen sails
And they tell of the wreck of the Isidore when the old men tell their tales
And sometimes when the moon is dark and the snow flies on the sea
The fisherman say that a ghost ship sails those waters cold and free

So we sing once more of the Isidore, of the cold New England sea
Where the hand of fate and a sailor's life forever twined shall be

©2001 by Harvey Reid

As recorded on #115 "The Great Sad River"

As re-released on #122 "Wreck of the Isidore"

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