John Wallace

The smoke is a-blowing, son
 And the flames reaching high to the sky
 It was there for the knowing, son
 That the fever was clear in his eyes
 He told of the Wallace, son
 Taken over by hellish blue death
 It's a wonder he made it here
 But the stables they suited him best
 Oh, and his body's aching
 Oh, and my heart is breaking
 Oh, not even God could save him
 Oh
 Can you give me a minute?
 I need a place to lay
 I've been swimming from the Wallace
 So many a mile away
 And I know I was in it
 I know that I'm not well
 If you give me a minute, sir
 The stories I could tell
 (Ooh) the stories I could tell
 (Ooh) the stories I could tell
 (Ooh) the stories I could tell, ooh
 We sailed here from Liverpool
 On a journey of forty-two days
 The fever came early on
 And the captain, he couldn't be saved
 They were turned away in Georgetown
 As the word of the trouble had spread
 By the time they had run aground
 Most of the shipmates were dead
 Oh, and his body's aching
 Oh, and my heart is breaking
 Oh, not even God could save him
 Can you give me a minute?
 I need a place to lay
 I've been swimming from the Wallace
 So many a mile away
 And I know I was in it
 I know that I'm not well
 If you give me a minute, sir
 The stories I could tell
 The stories I could tell
 The stories I could tell
 The stories I could tell
 ♪
 The Gulf of St. Lawrence, son
 Sure makes an icy cold grave
 The Wallace is in it, son
 And the people whose passage she gave
 He cheated the water, son
 But the fever has sure taken hold
 The smoke is a-blowing, son
 A prayer we should say for his soul
 Can you give me a minute?
 I need a place to lay
 I've been swimming from the Wallace
 So many a mile away
 And I know I was in it, sir
 I know that I'm not well
 If you give me a minute, sir
 The stories I could tell
 (Ooh) the stories I could tell
 (Ooh) oh, the stories I could tell
 (Ooh) the stories I could tell
 (Ooh) oh, the stories I could tell
 The stories I could tell
 The stories I could tell
 The stories I could tell