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Attention all ye seamen brave that sail the ocean far,
And hear of the clipper schooner belong to George N. Barry.¹
With her sails all set and she cast her lines and slowly left the pier,
In charge with Captain Taylor, who belonged to Carbonear.
The McClure she left the thirteenth of March for Naples she was bound;
She's a clipper of the sailing fleet with timbers strong and sound.
She carried a load of fish in bulk, rough weather for to meet,
Until she reached Gibraltar she was the beauty of the fleet.
A sharp look out for submarines, a watch by every eye,
When Allen Barrett at her wheel a submarine did spy;
He told the captain and the mate if what he saw proved true,
The captain he gave orders to heave the schooner to.
We lowered our canvas right away, we lowered our boats that day,
We knew that our schooner would be sunk and soon would row away;
The lieutenant and three of her sailors have rowed on board of our craft,
He placed one bomb in her fo'castle and another he put aft.
They ordered us to leave the ship, so we done right away,
Left to the mercy of the waves to row that livelong day;
And what provisions we had on board and oilskins from our crew,
Our captain's sheet and sections and coastal pilot, too.
We rowed the deep that livelong day 'til very late that night,
When a good Italian destroyer that quickly hove in sight;
'Twas by their captain's orders when us he did discern,
He ordered all our crew on board and slacked our boat astern.
They asked us our nationality as you may understand -
But we were British subjects belongs to Newfoundland.
They landed us in Cadiz where we were cared for well,
'Til we arrived at St. John's town the sad tale there to tell.
Six men composed our schooner's crew, their names I did pen down:
There's Allen Barrett and Bert Noseworthy belongs to St. John's town;
There's Charlie Steven and William Bailey and Bert Wills was our mate,
Those hardy sons from Newfoundland belongs to Twillingate.
