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Thirteen hundred souls there perish'd!
melancholy for to hear!
Many fatherless and widows,
mourn for their relations dear.
It was the twenty-ninth of August,
that did prove the fatal day
That good ship was there repairing,
before they did set out for sea.
But a squal of wind arising,
great's our cause for to lament.
In three minutes, most surprising:
ship and crew to bottom went.
Such a dismal scene of horror,
never mortal eyes did see.
This brave ship which was a terror,
to the daring enemy.
She was the pride of all the navy,
for her success and courage brave,
Pity 'tis for the brave sailors,
who have got a wat'ry grave!
Kempensfelt that brave commander,
the youngest admiral we have.
But ah! both he and his brave sailors,
all have perish'd in the waves!
In battles he was still victorious,
he did govern his fleet with skill;
His actions were crown'd with success,
his death with grief our hearts do fill.
