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 © Gabriela Fleury | Year Posted 2005
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