The Gosport Tragedy: Forget-Me-Not Songster (NY) c. 1844
[From Forget-Me not Songster; New York Nafis & Cornish c. 1844. This is a reprint of the Deming broadside.
R. Matteson 2016]
Bb. The Gosport Tragedy from Forget-Me not Songster; New York Nafis & Cornish c. 1844
THE GOSPORT TRAGEDY.
In Gosport of late a young damsel did dwell,
For wit and for beauty, few did her excel;
A young man did court her for to be his dear
And he by his trade was a ship carpenter.
He said dearest Molly, if you will agree,
And give your consent dear for to marry me,
Your love it can cure me of sorrow and care,
Consent then to wed with a ship carpenter.
With blushes as charming as roses in June,
She answered dear William to wed I am too young;
For young men are fickle, I see very plain,
If a maiden is kind, her, they quickly disdain.
My charming sweet Molly, how can you say so
Thy beauty's the haven to which I would go,
If there I find channel, when I chance for to steer,
I then will cast anchor, and stay with my dear.
I ne'er will be cloy'd with the charms of my loin
My heart is as true as the sweet turtle-dove;
And what I now crave is to wed with my dear
For when we are married no danger I'll fear
The state of a virgin, now William I prize,
For marriage brings trouble and sorrow like wise,
I'm afraid for to venture, therefore forbear,
I will never marry with a ship carpenter.
But yet was in vain that she strove to deny,
For he by his cunning, soon made her comply,
And by base deception, he did her betray,
In sin's hellish paths he led her astray.
But when this young damsel with child she did prove,
She quick sent the tidings to her faithless love
Who swore by the heavens that ho would prove true,
And said I will marry no damsel but you.
Things pass'd on a while, at length we do hear,
His ship must be sailing, for sea he must steer;
Which griev'd this poor damsel and wounded her heart,
To think with her love she so sudden must part.
Cried she, dearest William, ere you go to sea
Remember the vows you have made unto me;
If at home you don't tarry, I never can rest,
Oh! how can you leave me with sorrow oppres'd.
With tender expressions to her he did say,
I'll marry my Mary ere I go to sea;
And if that to-morrow my love will ride down
The ring I can buy, our fond union to crown
With tender embraces, they parted that night,
And promised to meet the next morning at light
William said — Mary, you must go with me,
Before wo are married, our friends for to see.
He led her through groves and valleys so deep
At length this young damsel began for to weep
Crying William, I fear you will lead me astray
On purpose my innocent life to betray.
He said you've guess'd right, all earth can't you save,
For the whole of last night, I've been digging your grave!
When poor ruined Mary did hear him say so,
The tears from her eyes like a fountain did flow
A grave with a spade lying near she did see,
Which caused her to sigh and weep bitterly;
Oh! perjured William, the worst of mankind,
Is this the bride's bed I expected to find.
Oh, pity my infant and spare my poor life,
Let me live full of shame if I can't be your wife,
Oh! take not my life, lest my soul you betray,
And you to perdition be hurried away.
Her hands white as lilies, in sorrow she wrung,
Imploring for mercy, crying what have I done;
To you dearest William, so comely and fair,
Will you murder your true-love that loved you so dear?
He said, this is no time disputing to stand,
Then instantly taking a knife in his hand--
He pierced her fair breast, whence the blood it did flow,
And into the grave her fair body did throw.
He cover'd the body, and quick hastened home-
Leaving none but the small birds her fate to bemoan:
On board ship he entered without more delay,
And set sail for Plymouth, to plow the salt sea.
A young man named Stewart, of courage most bold,
One night happened late to go into the hold;
Where a beautiful damsel to him did appear,
And she in her arms held an infant most dear.
Being merry with liquor, he went to embrace,
Transported with joy at beholding her face;
When to his amazement, she vanished away,
Which he told to the captain without more delay.
The captain soon summon'd the jovial ship's crew,
And said, my brave fellows, I fear some of you
Have murder'd some damsel ere you came away
Whose injur'd ghost now haunts you on the sea.
Whoever you be, if the truth you deny,
When found out, you'll be hung on the yard be high:
But he who confesses, his life we'll not take,
But leave him on the first island we make.
Then William immediately fell on his knees,
The blood in his veins quick with horrow did freeze;
He cried, cruel murder, oh ! what have I done
God help me, I fear my poor soul is undone.
Poor injured ghost ! your full pardon I crave,
For soon I must follow you down to the grave,
None else but this poor wretch beheld this sad sight,
And raving distracted he died the same night.
Now then her sad parents these tidings did hear.
They search'd for the body of their dau'ter dear;
Near the town of Southampton, in a valley deep,
The body was found, which caus'd many to weep.
In Gosport'a green church-yard, her ashes now lies,
And we hope her soul is with God in the skies :
Then let this sad tale be a warning to all,
Who dare a young innocent maid to enthral.