Tales of the Phantom Ship
Words and Music by Lennie Gallant


This legend exists on the Great Lakes, the Irish and English coasts, and the shores of Prince Edward Island ... where this song comes from.


On a night as black as a raven's feather,
Thunder cracked like a snap of leather,
And the wind whips through the black spruce on the shore;
Waves are pounding on the beaches harder,
As the last of the fishermen have reached safe harbour,
And the wind turns cold, cuts to the core.

Out on the wide Northumberland Strait,
A ball of fire skips o'er the waves,
And those who watch they can't believe their eyes;
There's a burst of flame and a flash of light,
And there on the tide is a frightening sight,
As a tall ship, all aflame, lights up the sky.

Tales of the phantom ship, from truck to keel in flames;
She sails the wide Northumberland Strait,
No one knows her name.
Tales of the phantom ship, it's a ship of fire they cry;
Hard against the wind she sails,
No one can say why.

They say she's a three-masted square-rigger,
Four hundred tons or maybe bigger,
With fire on every rope and spar and sail.
Out of the east though the wind blows west,
She ploughs the Strait on an unknown quest,
Cuttin' through the waves with the strength of a full force gale.

Of why she appears there's none who know,
Some say it's nothing but a moonlit glow,
But those who've seen her swear they tell no lies;
They tell how her bow suddenly drops down,
And into the depths of the Strait she's bound,
And the wind goes wild with wailing chilling cries.

Tales of the phantom ship, from truck to keel in flames;
She sails the wide Northumberland Strait,
No one knows her name.
Tales of the phantom ship, it's a ship of fire they cry;
Hard against the wind she sails,
No one can say why.

Some say she's an immigrant ship of old,
Highland Scots whose land was stolen,
Lost at sea while seeking the new land;
Or a ghostly American privateer,
Who plundered innocent harbours here,
Cursed to sail the Strait, forever damned.

But an old man sang a song to me,
Six hundred Acadians drowned at sea,
Deported long ago from Saint John's Isle;
He says they sail this choppy Strait,
Throughout time and tide they navigate,
Searching for the means to end their long exile.

Tales of the phantom ship, from truck to keel in flames;
She sails the wide Northumberland Strait,
No one knows her name.
Tales of the phantom ship, it's a ship of fire they cry;
Hard against the wind she sails,
No one can say why.

Tales of the phantom ship, from truck to keel in flames;
She sails the wide Northumberland Strait,
No one knows her name.
She sails the wide Northumberland Strait,
When will she sail again?

©1988 Gallant Effort Productions, Halifax, Nova Scotia