Lyrics by R. B. Nicol
                               Washington, DC: Gibson Brothers, 1864
                   American Memory, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
AIR--The Heights of Alma.

Ye jolly sons of the ocean blue,
I have a song to sing for you
Of the Kearsarge and her gallant crew,
And the pirate Alabama.

These vessels met in the forenoon,
On Sunday, the 19th day of June;
And our Yankee gunners proved right soon,
Too much for the Alabama.

In half mile circles round they went--
An hour and more broadsides were sent,
Till through and through great holes were rent
In the hull of the Alabama.

Like blasts sent from the pit of hell
Was the awful storm of shot and shell,
Which from the guns of the Kearsarge fell
On the fated Alabama.

Her boiler by a solid shot
Was burst, while steam was scalding hot,
And shells were searching every spot
Throughout the Alabama.

The crew pell-mell all rushed on deck,
Hauled down their flag, the fire to check;
Confusion reigned upon the wreck
Of the sinking Alabama.

Then over board all hands did bound--
The Captain swam for the Deerhound,
A British yacht which had come round
To help the Alabama.

Captain Winslow hailed her then,
For help to save the drowning men,
Not thinking her the chosen friend
Of the pirate Alabama.

Of course his aid was freely lent,
Boats were lowered and quickly sent;
Then with a plunge to the bottom went
The far-famed Alabama.

A number of the crew were brought
With Captain Semmes aboard the yacht,
Which away for a British horbor shot
With her prize from the Alabama.

Had our Yankee boys their treach'ry guessed
They would not have stayed to save the rest,
But to Davy Jones, had her expressed
Along with the Alabama.

Now the English channel long will be
Remembered for this victory;
Three cheers for the "Champion of the Sea"
That sunk the Alabama.

Created and maintained by Lisle Brown, Curator Special Collections
© 2007, Special Collections, Marshall University