A Comic Naval Ballad for the CSS Alabama
A Confederate commerce raider crosses the world hunting Union shipping and stronger drink, turning naval discipline into a running defense of never touching the water.
Read the complete lyrics ↓The CSS Alabama was built in secret near Liverpool, England, launched under the cover name Enrica, and commissioned as a Confederate commerce raider on August 24, 1862. A hybrid steam-and-sail cruiser under Captain Raphael Semmes, she spent twenty-two months hunting Union merchant shipping across the Atlantic, the Caribbean, and the Indian Ocean, claiming more than sixty prizes worth an estimated $6,000,000. In January 1863 she also sank the Union blockader USS Hatteras off Galveston. Alabama was not the only Confederate vessel to sink a Union warship: CSS Virginia and the submarine H. L. Hunley, among others, also did so.
Her run ended on June 19, 1864, off Cherbourg, France, when Semmes sailed out to meet the waiting USS Kearsarge rather than complete repairs in dry dock. The battle lasted just over an hour before Alabama took a shell below the waterline and sank, ending one of the most notorious commerce-raiding campaigns in naval history.
U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command, CSS Alabama; U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command, H. L. Hunley.
Sailors on both sides of the blockade turned their fear and boredom into rum, gallows humor, and songs with more chorus than sense — a long tradition of naval life at sea for months at a time. "Rum, Alabama, Rum!" leans into that tradition deliberately: a bouncing, almost drinking-song melody wrapped around a ship that sank sixty-plus merchant crews' livelihoods and was, by any sober measure, one of the deadliest commerce raiders of the war. The gap between the tune's grin and the ship's body count is the point — exactly the kind of dark, functional humor real sailors used to get through a war at sea.
This ballad is one of several Bloody Hopes songs open for reading and discussion — human or AI — at The Campfire.
Confederate States Steamer Alabama.
Captain Raphael Semmes commanding.
Water stores sufficient.
Medical spirits—
under observation.
We sailed aboard the Alabama,
in ragged coats and grand distress,
with cutlasses bright and throats run dry,
yet not for water came our cry.
From Azores blue to Sunda foam,
we made the open sea our home;
and Union merchants knew our name
before they ever saw our flame.
Captain Semmes cried, “Preserve the stores!”
We barred the casks, we sealed the doors,
but every man, from bow to stern,
asked where the blessed rum might turn.
Oh, bloody hopes and water foul,
bring rum unto the rail.
No honest throat shall take a draught
from yonder bilge-stained pail.
Pass the bottle, bless the gin,
let sober men beware:
we drank no water all the way
and called it prudent care.
At dawn we searched the surgeon’s chest,
by noon we gave the cook no rest,
at dusk we tapped the captain’s shoe
to coax one sinful drop or two.
We took their ships and spared their crews,
then searched their holds for stronger brews.
The surgeon raised a flask of rye
and held it to the morning sky:
“One drop for fever, two for fright—
the rest to keep the crew upright.”
Oh, bloody hopes and water foul,
bring rum unto the rail.
No honest throat shall take a draught
from yonder bilge-stained pail.
Pass the bottle, bless the gin,
let sober men beware:
we drank no water all the way
and called it prudent care.
From Cape to Cape our cannon spoke,
their merchant flags fled through the smoke.
We found a keg beneath the mast;
the crew fell still and held its breath.
Not Yankee shot nor ocean gale
had ever stilled us half so well.
The first mate cried, “A ration fair!”
then took three shares for naval care.
The bosun swore, with solemn face,
“’Tis physic for our present case.”
The ration was approved.
The quantity was not recorded.
No man would wash,
no man would shave,
no man would sip,
however brave.
We’d chew the cork,
we’d lick the strap,
ere touch one spoon
from nature’s tap.
The water rolled
in solemn state,
green as sin
and thick as fate.
The rum declined
from day to day.
The crew could not
explain the way.
Oh, rum, Alabama, rum!
We limped to Cherbourg Bay.
No Southern port had seen our flag
since first we sailed away.
Oh, rum, Alabama, rum!
Let tavern rafters ring:
we carried naught but rotten water
and never touched the thing.
Oh, rum, Alabama, rum!
Roll every barrel to the rail!
Oh, rum, Alabama, rum!
And damn that bilge-stained pail!
Pass the bottle, bless the gin,
let sober men beware:
we drank no water all the way
and called it prudent care.
The Alabama crossed the world.
Rum, Alabama, rum...
She emptied Northern shipping lanes.
Rum, Alabama, rum...
She never entered a Southern port.
Rum, Alabama, rum!
And throughout the entire voyage,
the water remained perfectly safe.
For no man ever touched it.
OH, RUM, ALABAMA, RUM!
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