It was homeward bound one night on the deep, Swinging in my hammock, I fell asleep; I dreamed a dream and I thought it true, Concerning Franklin and his gallant crew.
With a hundred sailors he sailed away, The frozen ocean in the month of may, To seek a passage around the pole, Where we poor sailors sometimes have to go.
Through cruel hardships they vainly strove; Their ship on mountains of ice was drove; Only the Indian with his skin canoe, Was the only one that ever came through.
In Baffin bay where the whale-fish blow The fate of Franklin, no man may know; The fate of Franklin, no tongue may tell, Where Franklin along with his sailors does dwell.
And now my burden, it brings me pain; For my long, lost Franklin I would cross the main; Ten thousand guineas I would freely give To say on Earth that my Franklin does live.