A Drowned Sailor Sings To His Narwhal
Narwhal of antartic deep, trusty
heart my soul to reap, ferry last
my wet cold skin, cross the river
Styx of sin
And if you ask of me now gone,
enquiring where my light has shone,
speak them with salt-sea’s romance,
“He’s gone to prance the Narwhal’s
dance”
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