Flying Cloud, The
Traditional

My name is Arthur Hollandin, as you may understand
I was born ten miles from Dublin Town, down on the salt-sea strand
When I was young and’ comely, sure, good fortune on me shone
My parents loved me tenderly for I was their only son

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Rum-da-deedle-da-da-deem-dadda-ya Da-deem-da-deedle-ee-aye-o

My father he rose up one day and with him I did go
He bound me as a butcher’s boy to Pearson of Wicklow
1 wore the bloody apron there for three long years and more
Till I shipped on board of The Ocean Queen belonging to Tramore

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It was on Bermuda’s island that first met Captain Moore
The Captain of The Flying Cloud, the pride of Baltimore
I undertook to ship with him on a slaving voyage to go
To the burning shores of Africa, where the sugar cane does grow

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But now our money it is all spent, we must go to sea once more
And all but five remained to hear the words of Captain Moore
‘There’s gold and silver to be had if with me you’ll remain
Let’s hoist the pirate flag aloft and sweep the Spanish Main

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The Flying Cloud was a Yankee ship, five hundred tons or more
She could out sail 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

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We plundered many a gallant ship down on the Spanish Main
Killed many a man and left his wife and children to remain
To none we showed no kindness but gave them watery graves
For the saying of our captain was: “Dead men tell no tales”

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We ran and fought with many a ship, both frigates and liners too
Till, at last, a British Man of War, The Dunmow, hove in view
She fired a shot across our bows as we ran before the wind
And a chain shot cut our mainmast down and we fell far behind

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They beat our crew to quarters as they drew up alongside
And soon across our quarter-deck there ran a crimson tide
We fought until they killed our captain and twenty of our men
Then a bombshell set our ship on fire, we had to surrender then

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It’s now to Newgate we have come, bound down with iron chains
For the sinking and the plundering of ships on the Spanish Main
The judge he has condemned us and we are condemned to die
Young men a warning by me take, lead not such a life as I

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Farewell to Dublin City and the girl that I adore
I’ll never kiss your cheek again nor hold your hand no more
Whiskey and bad company have made a wretch of me
Young men, a warning by me take and shun all piracy...

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