Post by Administrator on Jul 23, 2021 10:48:41 GMT
WILLIAM JONES
It was eighteen hundred and eighty three,
Aboard the HOPE, out on the sea.
Young William Jones had caught a cold,
At least that is the story told.
We got the story from a friend,
Who was with him at the end.
It was on a voyage from old Dakar,
June twenty second he crossed the bar.
Just a lad of eighteen years,
Who went to sea in spite of fears.
And caught a cold on the bounding main,
'Twas William Jones' claim to fame.
He is resting now where he called home,
With his family neath a mossy stone.
His time at sea came to an end,
A shipmate lost to a dear old friend.
Ian Adrian Millar
It was eighteen hundred and eighty three,
Aboard the HOPE, out on the sea.
Young William Jones had caught a cold,
At least that is the story told.
We got the story from a friend,
Who was with him at the end.
It was on a voyage from old Dakar,
June twenty second he crossed the bar.
Just a lad of eighteen years,
Who went to sea in spite of fears.
And caught a cold on the bounding main,
'Twas William Jones' claim to fame.
He is resting now where he called home,
With his family neath a mossy stone.
His time at sea came to an end,
A shipmate lost to a dear old friend.
Ian Adrian Millar