The Maine Disaster.
EATH the waters of Havana
Lies our once proud ship, the “Maine.
Her white hull torn and blackened
By the treachery of Spain.
’Mid the sunk and mangled wreckage
Of our battle-ship, the “Maine,”
Lie the bodies of her martyrs,
Claiming vengeance against Spain.
Oh, those pale, dead faces lying
Deep in the sunken “Maine,”
Will rise in the day of judgment
To bear witness against Spain.
In Havana still is Sigsbee,
The captain of the “Maine,”
Searching patiently for evidence
Of the dastard act of Spain.
And watching, working with him
In that city by the sea,
Is our dear old Southern hero,
The gallant Fitzhugh Lee.
And a day is fast approaching
When cruel, treacherous Spain
Must pay with blood the debt she owes
For the murdered crew of the “Maine.