Beyond the lapping reach of watermark
I stroll’d upon the sands and scrunch’d my toes
Where flotsam chose this morn to disembark
In ridding self from life of ebbs and flows
I chanced to see a shape which shipped ashore
From whence it came, one can but only dream
Perchance a battle raged in days of yore
A picture formed as if to set the scene
Twas third in line from bow, each made from trees
Atop the ‘mizzen mast’ (as came about)
When cannon shot was carried on the breeze
“Hath taken out gallant” (went up the shout)
Tho here lies now detached (a broken spar)
Such tales you’ve conjured up for this old ‘Tar’