President Coaker Poem

The Evening Advocate, April 21, 1924, and The Weekly Advocate, April 26, 1924;

                       In Memoriam
(in memory of Captain Norman Sheppard and the crew of the schooner President Coaker who 
                     lost their lives near Shoe Cove)

                    Oft times my mind does wander
                    And dwell on that rugged shore
                    Up near the place called Shoe Cove
                    Where the schooner President Coaker,
                    Commanded by Captain Norman Sheppard
                    And a well known sturdy crew,
                    Was wrecked by the whirling tempest
                    That carried them to their doom.

                    Oft times I think of days gone before
                    When we often did stand side by side
                    And gazed o're the dark blue seas.
                    With a heart full of life and a word of cheer
                    He daunted not the waves that foamed the deck,
                    From the dark unfathomed caves of the ocean
                    And listened to the music of the sea.
                    And said in God is our trust why do we fear.

                    There's a magical reef on that rugged shore,
                    When the waves are soaring high
                    There are broken bows and pieces of wood;
                    There are brows of beauty and bosoms of snow;
                    There are heaps of dust but we loved them so
                    There are trinkets and tresses of hair;
                    There are fragments of songs that nobody sings;
                    And a part of a captain's prayer.

                    There are hands that are waved when (to) the fairy shore
                    But the tides are lifted in air,
                    And we sometimes heard through the turbulent roar
                    Sweet voices we hear in days gone before
                    When the wind down the shore is fair.
                    Remember for aye be that rugged shore
                    When our eyes are closing to slumber awhile,
                    May that Greenwood of souls be in sight.

                                                   George Hiscock
                                               264 49th W. Street
                                               Brooklyn, New York