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Wrath of the Flying Dutchman

  Among the cries of lonesome gull
  A crude cross-slash, grinning skull

  Below the tattered crimson sail
  Those that did weather the fiercest gale
  Noblemen fearfully bow
  Seamen kneel before its prow

  Quiver before the pirate`s might
  A vision of ivory, dark as night
  We slowly conquer waves of teal
  All eyes follow the steady keel

  The ebony ship, its purpose grim
  The treasure hoard hidden within
  Like a glittering blade, swift and sure
  Cursed to never dock at shore

  Remembered in forgotten lore
  Not even the bravest Mortal knave
  Shall escape the wrath of the grave
  So we sail forever-more

Copyright © | Year Posted 2005




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Date: 5/26/2016 8:34:00 PM
gabriela, Enjoyed reading your thoughts and words today. *SKAT*
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