The Minstrels

A spectral ghost ship rides the fog outlined by the spray of the waves; Blurred vision of watery graves serves to bring life to epilogue; Generations speak of legends walking past the forgotten pier; What is true or false is unclear, with every share the story bends; Far fetched tale of hunting for gold, the kidnapped gave in to the fray; Spite lingered elders tend to say, fleet of vengeful hitmen turned cold; Now is it pirates or captives that we see on a moonlit night? We can’t be sure but it just might be the minstrels who choose who lives.