"Oh, we are the helpless murdered ones,
Blown far on the icy tide!
No sin was ours, but through all the days,
On the northern seas we ride.
No cerements ever enshroud us,
We know no roof of the sod;
We float forever unburied,
With our faces turned to God.
"So foul the deed that undid us,
So damned in its dull disgrace,