They were BIG ships, larger than anything
people had seen in their entire lifetime.
and they actually moved....slow...lumbering
...unstopable. The Dreadnaughts plowed the
wild Irish sea and ordinary men stood at the
rail and dreamed about having a farm, their
OWN farm. America, in the 1850s was a place
of free-land giveaway's, of homesteads and
hearths.... and all you had to do was get
and get there they did, in great waves of
humanity, millions and millions of them.
And it all started with ships.
To view the complete poem by the late Paul Petersen,
please visit Immigrant Ships Transcribers Guild