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traditional
Was homeward bound one night on the deep, swinging in my hammock I fell asleep. I dreamed a dream, and I thought it true, concerning Franklin, and his gallant crew. With a hundred seamen he sailed away, to the frozen ocean in the month of May. Seeking a passage around the pole, where we poor seamen must some times go. Through cruel hardship they mainly strove. Their ship on mountains of ice was drove. Only the Eskimo, in his skin canoe, is the only one, to ever get through. In Baffin Bay where the whale fishes blow, the fate of Franklin no man may know. The fate of Franklin no tongue can tell, where Franklin along, with his sailors might dwell. And now my burden it gives me pain. For my long-lost Franklin I would cross the main. Ten thousand pounds I would freely give, to say on earth that Franklin does live. |