Ewan MacColl - The Flying Cloud Lyrics

My name is William Hollander, as you will understand
I was born in the County of Waterford, in Erin's lovely land,
When I was young and in my prime, a beauty on me shone,
And my parents doted upon me, I being their only son.
My father bound me to a trade in Waterford's fair town,
He bound me to a cooper there by the name of William Brown.
I served my master faithfully for seven long years or more
Till I shipped aboard The Ocean Queen belonging to Tramore.
And soon we reached Bermuda's isle where I met with Captain Moore,
The commander of the Flying Cloud from out of Baltimore,
He asked me if I'd ship with him on a slaving voyage to go,
To the burning shores of Africa, where the sugar cane does grow.
It was after some weeks of sailing we arrived off Africa's shore,
Five hundred of them poor slaves,
Me boys, from their native land we bore.
We marched them up upon a plank and stowed them down below,
Scarce eighteen inches to a man was all they had to go.
Then the plague and the fever came
On board, swapped half of them away.
We dragged their bodies up on deck and hove them in the sea,
It was better for the rest of them if they had died below
Than to work beneath the cruel planters in Cuba for evermore.
For it was after some stormy weather, boys, we arrived off Cuba shore
And we sold them to the planters there to be slaves for evermore,
For the rice and coffee seed to sow beneath the brilliant sun
And to lead a lone and wretched life till their career was run.
Well it's now our money is all spent, we must go to sea again,
When Captain Moore comes on the deck and says unto us men,
"There's gold and silver to be had if with me you'll remain,
We'll hoist the pirate flag aloft and scour the Spanish Main."
We all agreed but three young men who were told us then to land.
Two of them were Boston boys, the other from New Foundland,
But I wish to God I joined those men and went with them on shore
Than to lead a wild and reckless life serving under a Captain Moore.
The Flying Cloud was a Yankee ship, five hundred tons or more,
She could outsail any clipper ship hailing out of Baltimore,
With her canvas white as the driven snow and on it there's no specks,
And forty men and fourteen guns she carried below her decks.
For we sacked and plundered many a ship down upon the Spanish Main,
Caused many a widow and orphan in sorrow to remain.
To the crews we gave no quarter but gave them watery graves,
For the saying of our captain was: "Dead men will tell no tales."
And pursued we were by many a ship, by frigates and liners too,
Till at last, the British man-o-war, the Dungeness, hove in view,
She fired a shot across our bows as we sailed before the wind,
Till a chain-shot cut our mainmast down and we fell far behind.
How our crew they beat to quarters as they ranged up alongside,
Soon across our quarter-deck there ran a crimson tide.
We fought till Captain Moore was killed and fifteen of our men,
Till a bombshell set our ship on fire, we had to surrender then.
So it's now to Newgate we were brought, bound down in iron chains,
For the sinking and the plundering of ships on the Spanish Main.
The judge he found us guilty, we were condemned to die.
Oh young men, a warning by me take, lead not such a life as I.
So it's fare you well, old Waterford and the girl I do adore,
I'll never kiss your cheek again, I'll squeeze your hand no more,
Oh whiskey and bad company first made a wretch of me,
Oh young men, a warning by me take and shun all piracy.
John Roberts and Tony Barrand sings The Flying Cloud
'Twas on a dark and cheerless night to the southern of the Cape,
When from a strong nor'wester we had just made our escape,
Like an infant in its cradle, all hands lay fast asleep,
And peacefully we sailed along in the bosom of the deep.
Just then the watchman gave a shout of terror and of fear,
As if he had just gazed upon some sudden danger near,
The sea all round was cloud and foam, and just upon our lee,
We saw the Flying Dutchman come a-bounding o'er the sea.
"Take in our lofty canvas, lads, " the watchful master cried,
"For in our ship's company some sudden danger lies,
For every man who rounds the Cape, although he knows no fear,
He knows that there is danger when Vanderdecken 's near."
Pity poor Vanderdecken, forever is his doom,
The seas around that stormy Cape will be his living tomb,
He's doomed to ride the ocean for ever and a day,
And he tries in vain his oath to keep by entering Table Bay.
All hands to the rail,
Our gallant crew, as the ghost ship bore to sea,
Our hearts were filled with awe and fear, as she passed along our lee,
The helmsman was likewise entranced, and as all hands sighed relief,
With rending crash and mortal force our vessel struck a reef.
Chris Foster sings The Flying Cloud
My name is William Hollander as you shall understand
I was born in the county of Waterford in Erin's lovely land.
When I was sixteen years of age, a beauty upon me shone
And I was my parents pride and joy, I being their only son.
My father bound me to a trade in Waterford's fair town.
He bound me to a butcher there by the name of Billy Brown.
And I wore the bloody apron for three long years or more,
Until I shipped on board the Ocean Queen, belonging to Tremore.
When we arrived at Bermuda's Isle I met with Captain Moore,
The commander of the Flying Cloud from out of Baltimore.
And he asked me if I'd sail with him on a slaving voyage to go,
To the balmy shores of Africa where the sugar cane do grow.
All went well 'til we arrived off Africa's burning shores.
Where five hundred of those poor
Slaves from their native homes we tore.
We chained them up together and we forced them down below,
Where scarce eighteen inches to a man was all they had to show.
And then the plague and the fever
Came on board and took half of them away
We dragged their bodies up on deck and we flung them in the seas.
You know I thought it might have been better
For the rest of them if they had died as well,
Not to wear the chains nor to feel the lash in Cuba for ever more.
Well it is now our money is all gone and we must sail again.
Captain Moore come up on deck and he said unto us men
"There is gold and silver to be had if with me you'll remain.
We will hoist the pirate flag aloft and go scour the Spanish Main."
All agreed but three young men, so we put them on the shore.
Two of them were Boston boys and the third came from Baltimore.
Now I wish to God I'd joined those men, when they were set on shore,
But I chose a wild and a reckless life, serving under Captain Moore.
Well we robbed and we plundered
Many's the ship down on the Spanish Main.
Causing many's the widow and orphan in sorrow to remain.
But to the crews we showed no quarter. We gave them a watery grave.
For the saying of our Captain is that dead men tell no tails.
Pursued we were by many's the ship, by frigate and liner too.
Until at length a man o' war the Dungeness hove in view.
We fought 'til Captain Moore was slain and twenty of our men.
But then a chain shot tore our main mast
Down and we were forced to surrender then.
So it is now in Newgate Gaol I lie, bound down in iron chains,
For robbing and a plundering ships down on the Spanish Main.
The judge he found us guilty. Now I am condemned to die.
Young men a warning by me take and lead not such a life as I.
So it's fare thee well to Waterford and the girls that I adored.
I'll never kiss your ruby lips nor squeeze your hands no more.
For it is drinking and bad company that have made a wretch of me.
Young men a warning by me take and shun all piracy.

My name is William Hollander, as you will understand
I was born in the County of Waterford, in Erin's lovely land,
When I was young and in my prime, a beauty on me shone,
And my parents doted upon me, I being their only son.
My father bound me to a trade in Waterford's fair town,
He bound me to a cooper there by the name of William Brown.
I served my master faithfully for seven long years or more
Till I shipped aboard The Ocean Queen belonging to Tramore.
And soon we reached Bermuda's isle where I met with Captain Moore,
The commander of the Flying Cloud from out of Baltimore,
He asked me if I'd ship with him on a slaving voyage to go,
To the burning shores of Africa, where the sugar cane does grow.
It was after some weeks of sailing we arrived off Africa's shore,
Five hundred of them poor slaves,
Me boys, from their native land we bore.
We marched them up upon a plank and stowed them down below,
Scarce eighteen inches to a man was all they had to go.
Then the plague and the fever came
On board, swapped half of them away.
We dragged their bodies up on deck and hove them in the sea,
It was better for the rest of them if they had died below
Than to work beneath the cruel planters in Cuba for evermore.
For it was after some stormy weather, boys, we arrived off Cuba shore
And we sold them to the planters there to be slaves for evermore,
For the rice and coffee seed to sow beneath the brilliant sun
And to lead a lone and wretched life till their career was run.
Well it's now our money is all spent, we must go to sea again,
When Captain Moore comes on the deck and says unto us men,
"There's gold and silver to be had if with me you'll remain,
We'll hoist the pirate flag aloft and scour the Spanish Main."
We all agreed but three young men who were told us then to land.
Two of them were Boston boys, the other from New Foundland,
But I wish to God I joined those men and went with them on shore
Than to lead a wild and reckless life serving under a Captain Moore.
The Flying Cloud was a Yankee ship, five hundred tons or more,
She could outsail any clipper ship hailing out of Baltimore,
With her canvas white as the driven snow and on it there's no specks,
And forty men and fourteen guns she carried below her decks.
For we sacked and plundered many a ship down upon the Spanish Main,
Caused many a widow and orphan in sorrow to remain.
To the crews we gave no quarter but gave them watery graves,
For the saying of our captain was: "Dead men will tell no tales."
And pursued we were by many a ship, by frigates and liners too,
Till at last, the British man-o-war, the Dungeness, hove in view,
She fired a shot across our bows as we sailed before the wind,
Till a chain-shot cut our mainmast down and we fell far behind.
How our crew they beat to quarters as they ranged up alongside,
Soon across our quarter-deck there ran a crimson tide.
We fought till Captain Moore was killed and fifteen of our men,
Till a bombshell set our ship on fire, we had to surrender then.
So it's now to Newgate we were brought, bound down in iron chains,
For the sinking and the plundering of ships on the Spanish Main.
The judge he found us guilty, we were condemned to die.
Oh young men, a warning by me take, lead not such a life as I.
So it's fare you well, old Waterford and the girl I do adore,
I'll never kiss your cheek again, I'll squeeze your hand no more,
Oh whiskey and bad company first made a wretch of me,
Oh young men, a warning by me take and shun all piracy.
John Roberts and Tony Barrand sings The Flying Cloud
'Twas on a dark and cheerless night to the southern of the Cape,
When from a strong nor'wester we had just made our escape,
Like an infant in its cradle, all hands lay fast asleep,
And peacefully we sailed along in the bosom of the deep.
Just then the watchman gave a shout of terror and of fear,
As if he had just gazed upon some sudden danger near,
The sea all round was cloud and foam, and just upon our lee,
We saw the Flying Dutchman come a-bounding o'er the sea.
"Take in our lofty canvas, lads, " the watchful master cried,
"For in our ship's company some sudden danger lies,
For every man who rounds the Cape, although he knows no fear,
He knows that there is danger when Vanderdecken 's near."
Pity poor Vanderdecken, forever is his doom,
The seas around that stormy Cape will be his living tomb,
He's doomed to ride the ocean for ever and a day,
And he tries in vain his oath to keep by entering Table Bay.
All hands to the rail,
Our gallant crew, as the ghost ship bore to sea,
Our hearts were filled with awe and fear, as she passed along our lee,
The helmsman was likewise entranced, and as all hands sighed relief,
With rending crash and mortal force our vessel struck a reef.
Chris Foster sings The Flying Cloud
My name is William Hollander as you shall understand
I was born in the county of Waterford in Erin's lovely land.
When I was sixteen years of age, a beauty upon me shone
And I was my parents pride and joy, I being their only son.
My father bound me to a trade in Waterford's fair town.
He bound me to a butcher there by the name of Billy Brown.
And I wore the bloody apron for three long years or more,
Until I shipped on board the Ocean Queen, belonging to Tremore.
When we arrived at Bermuda's Isle I met with Captain Moore,
The commander of the Flying Cloud from out of Baltimore.
And he asked me if I'd sail with him on a slaving voyage to go,
To the balmy shores of Africa where the sugar cane do grow.
All went well 'til we arrived off Africa's burning shores.
Where five hundred of those poor
Slaves from their native homes we tore.
We chained them up together and we forced them down below,
Where scarce eighteen inches to a man was all they had to show.
And then the plague and the fever
Came on board and took half of them away
We dragged their bodies up on deck and we flung them in the seas.
You know I thought it might have been better
For the rest of them if they had died as well,
Not to wear the chains nor to feel the lash in Cuba for ever more.
Well it is now our money is all gone and we must sail again.
Captain Moore come up on deck and he said unto us men
"There is gold and silver to be had if with me you'll remain.
We will hoist the pirate flag aloft and go scour the Spanish Main."
All agreed but three young men, so we put them on the shore.
Two of them were Boston boys and the third came from Baltimore.
Now I wish to God I'd joined those men, when they were set on shore,
But I chose a wild and a reckless life, serving under Captain Moore.
Well we robbed and we plundered
Many's the ship down on the Spanish Main.
Causing many's the widow and orphan in sorrow to remain.
But to the crews we showed no quarter. We gave them a watery grave.
For the saying of our Captain is that dead men tell no tails.
Pursued we were by many's the ship, by frigate and liner too.
Until at length a man o' war the Dungeness hove in view.
We fought 'til Captain Moore was slain and twenty of our men.
But then a chain shot tore our main mast
Down and we were forced to surrender then.
So it is now in Newgate Gaol I lie, bound down in iron chains,
For robbing and a plundering ships down on the Spanish Main.
The judge he found us guilty. Now I am condemned to die.
Young men a warning by me take and lead not such a life as I.
So it's fare thee well to Waterford and the girls that I adored.
I'll never kiss your ruby lips nor squeeze your hands no more.
For it is drinking and bad company that have made a wretch of me.
Young men a warning by me take and shun all piracy.