July Twenty Fourth, Nineteen Fifteen
The river was murky, The weather was seen
The steamer Eastland, firm on her bow,
loaded with coal, port side and sound
A captain, that's ***** and stout in his manner
stands on his bridge with an arrogant cantor
Mooring lines set, stern to the bow
Gangplanks are steady, awaiting a crowd
Employees of Western dressed to their nines,
a picnic awaits, everything's fine
Families with smiles and tickets in hand
looks up in wonder, the Eastland she stands
Boarding commences and loaded up full
Twenty Five Hundred, no more to call
Port side list, a lean to the river
Ballast is leveled, some felt the shiver
Worries amount to settling fears,
a starboard list and beckoning tears
Back to the port, no coming back
tipped on her side, everything's black
Panic in fever, screams are abound
echoes in motion, no silence no sound
The river's chaotic with bodies afloat
Kenosha stands ready and rescues the most
Eight forty four lost their lives
In the armory they lay and Chicago cries
The Eastland still rests in our hearts and our mind
Not a second or hour can turn back the time
Yesterday was the hundred anniversary of the Eastland Disaster on the Chicago River.. 844 lost their lives while the ship was still partially moored to the pier...I went to the site yesterday