The Satan’s Daughter

The ‘Satan’s Daughter’ always knows the way she ought to go There’s no-one left alive aboard to haul her rigging so Her crew and Cap’n flounder on the seabed far below But the ‘Satan’s Daughter’ sails on for she knows which way to go The ‘Satan’s Daughter’ sets her sails in fear of no tempest Of all the fears of sailor men it’s fog she likes the best Though never has a lookout seen her quickly turn about - To head into a fog; but some have seen her coming out Only one of these survived to rave about the day The ‘Satan’s Daughter’ thundered from the eerie, misty grey The Captain of the ‘Godspeed’ knew he had to save his neck When an albatross fell from the sky and crashed down on the deck He raved about a spectacle, he raved about a tentacle He tossed his log into the sea encased in a receptacle So when they said, ‘Survived’, perhaps they might have stretched the truth For when the ‘Godspeed’ sank his log was all we had for proof The ‘Satan’s Daughter’ sails on unmolested as she goes Unperturbed that somewhere there’s a flotilla that grows Moving on, they had a face off midst the arctic ice She watched those ships all go down in not much more than a trice But what might be the spectacle and what could be the tentacle Can a sailing ship ever be quite so reprehensible The ‘Satan’s Daughter’ came and went and soon we’d understand As one tentacle… and then another… crept upon our land