Deep in the night when the full moon is round Rises up the soul of young Phoebe who did drownSouth from the marsh where the blue heron flies Out from the shoreline can you see her watery eyesA steamer swift and new was the pride for Henry Clay Headed for New York on a brilliant July dayThe paddle wheels were glistening, the blades so fine and cleanThe boilers hiding far below the flames that turned the wheelFrom Albany she left the Armenia right behind They fired up the boilers to make faster timeThe clay pulled into Hudson, the Armenia steamed right byAnd from the crowds upon the wharf arose a startled cry For a challenge had been made that the crew would not let bySo quickly now they loaded up and fares shot up sky high Into the Athens Channel just to see what she could doThey piled on the coal until sparks and cinders flew The women grew afraid and the men it seemed no lessAs hot air from the boilers cut across the midship decks The gap was one full mile when the clay began to shakeDriven down Hudson with four hundred lives at stake After Catskill landing the clay began to gainThe firemen at the bar drank and said they'd win the gameFirst one mile, then a quarter, just one length, then side by sideTogether rounding to the point they pushed against the tideThen the clay pulled out ahead and the pilots swung aroundCaught across Armenia's bow and drove her towards low groundThen they fired up the boilers just to keep that furious pacePast Kingston to Poughkeepsie so sure they'd won the racePhoebe was sixteen and this trip it was a first Raised on an Ulster county farm for travel she did thirstHer uncle took her arm as they boarded on the clayIt was 1852 and a sunny July day Decks were overcrowded so they headed down to dineWhite linen on the tables and silverware so fine Through the misty highlands and beneath the PalisadesPhoebe's eyes grew wide as at the mountains she did gazeNow it seemed there was no warning just a cry and then the flamesBreaking out at midships closer the heat came The pilots swung her eastward and towards the shore she steamedPhoebe got out to the deck next to the sea Children they were crying, there was panic near the boatThrowing planks and wooden chairs hoping they would floatMothers seeking children, husbands crying for their wives In only twenty minutes they would lose one hundred livesThe bow had ramped the bank and the fire spread towards the sternPassengers forced out, their choice was drown or burn She could not find her uncle though she thought she heard her nameThe smoke was getting thicker, she could hear the crackling flames So overboard she went, across a ramp, down a ropeTried to reach a floating chair, it seemed her only hope And though her arms knew well how to pull the water roundHer many skirts grew heavy and quickly pulled her downMany hours later a full moon did rise Shone down on a smoking hull and many cheerful eyesBodies pulled up on the bank, crates floating far from shoreThe pilot gazed out at his ship, his race there was no more Now some things never change, how some men will prove their prideBy racing towards a nameless goal, not caring who might die To prove that speed is strength and strength the final testThe winners in a nameless grave, I wonder do they restDeep in the night when the full moon is round Rises up the soul of young Phoebe who did drownSouth from the marsh where the blue heron flies Out from the shoreline can you see her watery eyes