Empress of Ireland

THE EMPRESS OF IRELAND Two mighty workhorses, colliding Titans, Leviathans of the Saint Lawrence river. Devastation’s maritime wrecking balls, Slamming head on, even after the warnings Sounding, had been given, by Captain Kendall. Emerging on the starboard side, a distant light Did shine, from the masthead on high. The tramper steamer, S.S. Storstad, Heavily loaded by coals freight, Didn't hear the captain's hailing. Lost within an eerie, thickened fog bank, All hands struggled in full reverse, But the wheels of fate, had been set, In motions wake, and it was Coming straight towards them, at Rapid speeds full velocity. Horns rang out, life boats were lowered Broad side, voices yelled abandon ship, Captured unaware, shaken from their beds. Passengers scrabbled to the higher Decks elevation, as the chilling waters Slashed through the torn apart, And breached forward hull. Death's black ghost ship, lies moored Near by, ready to take on board, it's Newest crew members, the grim Reapers flag, flies at half mast. Until the full compliments roll call, has Been filled, by the dead's unwilling Volunteers. Clinging to the life raft of spiritualism, The living pray, for a last reprieves Salvation, a miracle to save them, But hell's vessel awaits and it's Master has no mercy. Histories stretches a gray shroud, Across the debris field, as their Voices grow silent, beneath the brimey deep. A lone, cold, monument does stand, At Rimouski St-Germain cemetery , in Quebec, Canada. Expressing the details of this misfortune. But it will never satisfy the sorrows felt, By the survivors or family members Whom were lost that early May morning. BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN