How calm now lies the ocean as it flirts along the shore,
The waves softly teasing with the gentle ebb and flow
With the birdsong and wind song, in harmony reply,
On this glorious, enchanting evening of a fine October day.
By the walls of this Cohasset graveyard lies a story often told
Of a wind so wild with fury and that true nor’easter roar,
That churned up the ocean and hurled waves with all its might,
At poor hungry mortals as their journey’s end came into sight.
They left their own familiar shore with the summer’s sweet farewell
Their spirits bruised, near broken, yet all fears must be quelled
Hope was their saving; Faith was their grace
As they sailed toward the New World, faces stung by bitter tears
And evil is that nation that drove Patrick Sweeney from his land,
Who with all his toil and labor fed their mighty and their grand
While his poor and hungry family wailed a woeful chant
As ships they watched, all loaded down with their grain, beef and ham,
In sorrow and in anger, you made your way to Galway Bay
A last cry of anguish at your own true love’s grave,
Now motherless your children, one a babe in arms
One last fond glance at your native land as you board the Brig St. John.
On this ship built for cargo you were huddled below deck
Those with a few more farthings above in cabins took their rest
You prayed there in the darkness and sang songs inside your head
As you viewed the far horizon and the promise it held.
In Cohasset Bay at the end of the day, arose the fiercest storm,
The weary Brig embattled now, by strong wind and crashing waves,
Without anchor, mast and rigging, Battered, shattered on Grampus Ledge,
And Angels ferried the perished souls, from their torment to eternal rest.
While this graveyard marks a woeful tale of sad and painful past,
But light outshines the darkness and once more their spirit shines
A tall granite cross, your story tells, one that must live on,
When the hungry braved an ocean wild on the ill-fated Brig St John
Máirín Uí Chéide