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Through the foggy mists of May,
I saw a ship sail into sight.
A galleon, she was, sailing through the cloudy grey,
Glowing with a saintly aura; An aura very bright.

That ship, she brought back memories...
Tales of the wild sea...
All which remained mysteries-
But one comes back to me.

Many a year ago it occurred,
And a stormy night at that.
Just I, the crew, the captain,.. his bird,
And a large supply of sickly rats.

A plague had struck the ship that year.
Many died; their cases severe.
But I felt fine; No illness here!
I was just dandy... The rest were in fear.

"Why is it," I had often thought,
"That I am immune and they are not?"

But the sickness was not the greatest disaster,
As the storm would kill us all.
The waves rumbled the ship faster and faster!
And the outlook in the nest was ready to fall.

Then all of a sudden, the ship started to float!
Not in the sea but the air.
"This is amazing! What's happening to the boat?"
If only they had seen what was really there.

The crew continued to shout in amaze.
"It's a miracle," one gasped, "A bloody miracle, mate!"
But I could only stand there and gaze;
They'd seen our saving, but I saw our fate.

What they did not know, was below the ship's deck,
Something was lifting us above that choppy sea.
I first saw it's tail, it's body, it's neck,
Then the frightful head! A monster, was he!

But before I could heed any warning,
He screeched a scream-- His voice was scorning.

He tossed the ship across the ocean,
Dumping the crew to their death.
But I had held on through the rapid motion,
And was the only one to escape his wrath.

I grabbed a board from the shredded ship,
And swam several miles to the shore.
Many times, Ih'd almost lost grip,
But I saw the beastly serpent, not once more.

"Why did they all have to die?"
"Why them? Why not I?"

I often thought this, night to dawn,
And dawn to day; All day long.
I passed many nights with not even a yawn,
"It was wrong," I would mutter, "Bloody wrong!"

But what had happened is now long ago.
Ever since the stormy night's rain.
The ghost ship has faded into a dark indigo,
Only memories still remain.

So through these foggy mists of May,
A ship sails every night.
Emerging from the cloudy grey,
Only to again, disappear from sight.

A ship composed of memories,
Sailing this dead, black sea.
A ship of many mysteries,
But all, just a memory.