You can’t see the shore,
A moving, shivering door.
The floor buckles and roars,
Trapped in a mess of cords.
Tripping, Scrapping, Begging.

Main deck is barely bones,
It’s boards now floating,
Passengers in the water, Loitering.
Angry water’s deathly destruction shown.

Captain is entangled,
In a nasty mess of sails,
Exhausted and Flailed,
He battles on.

A salty grip on your Maiden,
The sea is breaking her,
Friends, Crew, all about and wailin’
‘What a cruel fate to occur!’

A deadly handle
on an old decoration,
Designed with candles,
Now used for flotation.

Weary Eyes
With a salty coat,
Still tell no lies
About when the shore met the boat.