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There are homes bereaved for the friends who left,
They never shall see more.
In the morning came from off the main, there were icebergs close at hand.
The sailors cried have no fear my boys, we are passing Newfoundland.
Break the record, and great reward, when we see Columbus shore.
Titanic was built in Erin’s Isle, she will glide the ocean o’er.
The midnight came on the briny main,
And enjoyment did abound,
When underneath the waters deep,
There came a hollow grinding sound.
Go below and let us know, the damage that is done,
Her sides are torn, her voyage is o’er,
Titanic’s course has run.
That noble ship she tumbled, while sinking in the waves.
The captain on the bridge did stand, his stern orders gave.
The brother saved his sister and the mother saved her child,
There was no such scene that had ever been on the Atlantic wide.
To praise the grand captain, one word I have to say,
When deep distress reached the deck, he headed straight away.
God bless her noble captain and her seamen true and brave,
To have saved so many passengers from a cold and watery grave.
The above poem was penned by Gerald O’Reilly (1866 – 1950), and sent to us by his great, great grandson, Ollie Byrne.
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