storm of the sea
The sea was in trouble; turning from blue to black
Nothing alive could survive, said Captain Quack
His ship was bouncing by the storm this night
Everything felt lose, nothing tied down tight.
We were tossed and blown, a sailor fell into the sea.
He screamed a few times, many hands counted three.
A shark was seen circling, so we turned away.
It was too gruesome to think about, too late to pray.
Our clipper ship was bound for the West Indies.
Where spices were waiting of all textures and degrees.
We lost four bodies in all during this storm of strife.
Two cooks, a whipping boy, and the captain’s wife.
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