Poem - James Drummond Burns

Ballad of the Emden

By James Drummond Burns

The Emden sailed the Southern Seas, she flew no skull and bones

But one and twenty merchantmen she went to Davy Jones;

One and twenty merchantmen, that on the sea did go –

The Emden filled them full of holes, and sent them down below.

The ships of war that lacked her sore they marked nor smoke nor light,

She sailed a phantom ship by day, a phantom ship by night;

She sailed so fast, she sailed so far, she sailed a ship unseen,

And by her trail of sunken ships they knew where she had been.

And she has heard a whispered word that stole across the sea,

(Is it the word of friend or foe? Who knows which it may be?)

“Tis ships that guard the wireless post, they have sailed far away,

The Cocos lies an easy prize, swoop down and take your prey,”

And she has rigged a funnel false, and flagless, like a ghost,

Steals southward down the ocean-way to wreck the wireless post;

Hull-down on the horizon’s line they saw her smoke-trail dark,

And soon the signal S.O.S. broke from the crackling spark.

She hears the call that speeds afar; she knows its import well;

But yet, respecting life, withholds the all-destroying shell.

Now she has reached the blue lagoon and banks her glowing fires,

And men two score she sends ashore to wreck the singing wires.

A wisp of smoke that trailed and broke far off upon the lee:-

“’Tis but some passing ocean tramp that sail upon the sea!”

What is the tramp whose funnels smoke and flame like mouth of hell?

The tramp that carries twenty guns and every gun a shell!

The Emden out to battle sailed, her guns a greeting spoke,

And rolling o’er the ocean waves the thund’ring echoes woke;

And there they fought a running fight, those ocean greyhounds twain,

As in the days when Drake brought low the vaunting pride of Spain.

The Sydney’s guns have found their range, they cut her funnels sheer,

And through her stern they drive a shell that wrecks her driving gear;

Dense smoke in volumes eddies up, and flames in fury roar

Along the deck; a blazing wreck, the Emden drives ashore.

And they have seen by Comorin a grey ghost on the sea,

That shows no light, but flees by night; ye ask what she may be;-

The sailors of the merchantmen that watch with bated breath.

They whisper as she passes by, “The Emden sails with Death!”