She sailed from the shores of Sheerness¹,
One eve of a bright Autumn day,
With one thousand souls, but few less,
And all were so joyous and gay;
As onward they steered for home,
They danced and sang many a strain.
Not thinking, while ploughing the foam,
That few would their homes see again.

Chorus :  Fearful to think of, sad to behold,
                  Our eyes fill with tears
                  When the story is told;
                  We long shall remember
                  The third of September,
                  And the wreck of the Princess Alice.

These people were never so gay,
Of danger had never thought less;
When, lo! there was heard with dismay.
A crush, and a cry of distress.
The laughter now turned to a shriek.
All merriment changed into strife;
And almost before they could speak,
They found themselves struggling for life.

It was a sad picture of pain,
For near to their friends and their home,
Six hundred were shrieking in vain,
And struggling like mad 'midst the foam.
Fond lovers to each other clasped,
Sons, mothers, and fathers beside;
And children, with toys tightly grasped,
All sank through the fast-running tide.

In this truly pitiful wreck.
Some wildly their lives tried to save,
While others remained on the deck.
Until she sank under the wave.
And scarcely five minutes had passed.
When such was her terrible doom,
Then o'er her the waters flowed fast.
And nothing remained but the gloom.