The Wreckers

Light false beacons, lure ships in, To flounder on 'our' shore. Kill all survivors, loot the wreck, This night should bring us more. The depth that man can stoop when pressed, Survival calls the tune. Their shame and dignity oppressed, Those nights without a moon. They prayed in church, for help to bring, Ships close each storm swept night. For wreckers thought that only God, Brought ships to ease their plight. They also prayed to save all souls, That sailed upon the sea, Except the ones, too near 'our' coast, Their loss will set 'us' free. Then they helped God, by lighting fires, False lights to guide ships in. They fed their families on their crimes, But sold their souls to sin. Ivor G Davies