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A song to go along with the thread;
"The Cumberland Crew"

Shipmates come gather and join in my ditty,
of the terrible battle that happened of late.
Let each Union tar shed a tear of sad pity,
when he thinks of the once gallant Cumberland's fate.
The eighth day of March told a terrible story,
when many a brave tar to this world bid adeu.
Our flag it was wrapped in a mantle of glory,
by the heroic deeds of the Cumberland's crew.

On that ill fated day, about ten in the morning,
the sky it was cloudless and bright shone the Sun.
The drums of the Cumberland sounded a warning,
that told every seaman to stand by his guns.
For an ironclad frigate down on us came bearing,
high up in the air her base rebel flag flew.
An emblem of treason she proudly was wearing,
determined to conquor the Cumberland crew.

Then up spoke our captain with stern resolution,
"Now boys, of this monster do not be afraid."
"We'll swear to maintain our beloved Constitution.
To die for our country we are not afraid."
"We'll fight for our Union, our cause it is glorious,
to the stars and the stripes we shall ever stand true."
"We'll sink at our quarters or conquor victorious!"
He was answered by cheers from the Cumberland crew.

Our noble ship fired, huge guns, dreadful thunder,
our broadsides like hail on the rebel did pour.
But, the people gazed awestruck with terror and wonder,
as our shot struck her side, and glanced harmlessly o'er.
But the pride of our Navy could never be daunted,
though our decks with the dead and the wounded did strew.
Our Star Spangled Banner how proudly it flaunted,
it was nailed to the mast by the Cumberland crew.

We fought them three hours with stern resolution,
till these rebels found cannon could never decide.
For the flag of succession had no power to quell them,
though the blood from our scuppers did crimson the tide.
She struck us amidships, our planks she did sever,
her sharp iron prow pierced our noble ship through.
And they cried at they sank in the dark rolling river,
"We'll die at our guns!" said the Cumberland's crew.

Slowly they sank in the dark rolling waters,
their voices on earth shall be heard nevermore.
They'll be wept by Columbia's brave sons and fair daughters,
may their blood be avenged on Virginia's old shore.
And if there are sailors in battle assembled,
God bless our dear banner, the red, white, and blue.
Beneath it's proud folds we'll cause tyrants to tremble,
or sink at our guns like the Cumberland's crew.

1862