The Burin Tidal Wave (1929).

A Poem by Alexander Strang
Published in The Newfoundlander, March 1949
Submitted by Karen Ducey


On the 18th November, as you must remember
We thought that the old world was coming to its end
Oh, the earth began to tremble, like a leaf growing nimble
For our lives we had to scramble, so here’s what happened then.
Ah, that day began with sunshine, from early in the morning
The wind was light and pleasant, and the sky was bright and clear
You could hear the people talking, as along the road they’re walking
Not thinking that disaster was drawing near.

Everything was right until it was late that fatal evening
The time I well remember between four and five o’clock
Then we began to wonder what’s that rumbling noise like thunder
That seemed on top and under; and which caused the earth to rock
How the waters they receded, far out and unpreceded
By any other tide or wave we ever had before
And people in a panic, some almost going frantic
Went running to get safely from that awful noise and roar

Then the wave it rushed with power, going forty miles an hour
Carrying everything before it as it rushed along the shore.
There were boats and punts and dories, also flakes and stages, stores too.
And dwellings swept to glory that will never be seen more
It eclipsed the highest fountain and drove people to the mountain
The women and the children, also aged men and boys
All were in high confusion at the waters great intrusion
Saying let us go still farther, we don’t know how far twill rise

Not a breeze disturbed the ocean, the clouds had little motion
The moon looked dull and saddened, as it rose above the hill
Some thought that it had shifted, and out her course had drifted
While many too, imagined that it was standing still.
No doubt its beams reflected, scenes sad and unexpected
Where men and little children were battling in the wave
Where mothers, sons and daughters, were smothered in the waters,
And sixteen precious loved ones were buried in the wave.

May the God of light and splendor accept their souls so tender
Those loved ones who have perished, God rest them one and all,
We sympathize with their relations, of both denominations,
For these loved ones they have cherished at Point du Bras and Point aux Gaul.
Now a verse in appreciation, of the people of each nation,
Whose quick response in charity from home and abroad;
Their deeds should be recorded, and no doubt they’ll be rewarded
When they stand before their Maker, in the Judgement hall of God.

Our homes were reconstructed, and we were reinstated.
We got back every longer, every log and every shore.
And clothing without number, also nails and felt and lumber,
Oh, we got back all our losses, and some a little more.
Here’s another verse and closer, for myself the great composer
I didn’t get full assets, I am a few dollars due.
For land about an acre that was torn up by the quaker,
But I leave this to my Maker, and I think now this will do.