The Wreck of the 'Thomas Dryden' in Pentland Firth

As I stood upon the sandy beach

One morn near Pentland Ferry,

I saw a beautiful brigantine,

And all her crew seem'd merry.

When lo! the wind began to howl,

And the clouds began to frown,

And in the twinkling of an eye

The rain came pouring down.

Then the sea began to swell,

And seem'd like mountains high,

And the sailors on board that brigantine

To God for help did loudly cry.

Oh! it was an awful sight

To see them struggling with all their might,

And Imploring God their lives to save

From a merciless watery grave.

Their cargo consisted of window-glass,

Also coal and linseed-oil,

Which helped to calm the raging sea

That loud and angry did boil.

Because when the bottoms of the barrels

Were with the raging billows stove in,

The oil spread o'er the water,

And smoothed the stormy billows' din!

Then she began to duck in the trough of the sea,

Which was fearful to behold;

And her crossyards dipped in the big billows

As from side to side she rolled.

She was tossed about on the merciless sea,

And received some terrible shocks,

Until at last she ran against

A jagged reef of rocks.

'Twas then she was rent asunder,

And the water did rush in —

It was most dreadful to hear it,

It made such a terrific din.

Then the crew jumped into the small boats

While the Storm-fiend did roar,

And were very near being drowned

Before they got ashore.

Then the coal-dust blackened the water

Around her where she lay,

And the barrels of linseed-oil

They floated far away.

And when the crew did get ashore,

They were shaking with cold and fright,

And they went away to Huna inn,

And got lodgings for the night!