Come, listen all unto my song;
It is no silly fable;
‘Tis all about the mighty cord
They call the Atlantic Cable.
Bold Cyrus Field he said, says he,
I have a pretty notion
That I can run the telegraph
Across the Atlantic Ocean.
Then all the people laughed, and said
They’d like to see him do it;
He might get half-seas over, but
He never could go through it;
To carry out his foolish plan
He never would be able;
He might as well go hang himself
With his Atlantic Cable.
But Cyrus was a valiant man,
A fellow of decision;
And heeded not their mocking words,
Their laughter and derision.
Twice did his bravest efforts fail,
And yet his mind was stable;
He wa’n’t the man to break his heart
Because he broke his cable.
“Once more, my gallant boys!” he cried;
“Three times!—you know the fable,—
(I’ll make it thirty,” muttered he,
“But I will lay this cable!”)
Once more they tried—hurrah! hurrah!
What means this great commotion?
The Lord be praised! the cable’s laid
Across the Atlantic Ocean.
Loud ring the bells,—for, flashing through
Six hundred leagues of water,
Old Mother England’s benison
Salutes her eldest daughter.
O’er all the land the tidings speed,
And soon, in every nation,
They’ll hear about the cable with
Profoundest admiration!
And may we honor evermore
The manly, bold, and stable;
And tell our sons, to make them brave,
How Cyrus laid the cable.