The Land of Demons

by | Sep 3, 2009 | Poetry | 0 comments

As closer to the rocks we drew
The storm in violent tumult grew …
Black cliffs rose high above our heads
Their lights had lured us to our deaths.
Like demons they were waiting there
To strip our sails and timber bare.
Soon all would sink beneath the waves
Or lie in shallow, sandy graves.
We fought and pleaded for our lives
Would no one heed our plaintive cries?
To journey home by weeping cross
All hopes and dreams would soon be lost.
Their hovellers broached upon the waves
The wreckers’ hearts were cold and brave.
They’d trawl for bodies on the shores
May God have pity on our souls!
And some who lived would also die
A murdered man -the seagulls’ cry?
The captain’s daughter, too, was lost
On to a lonely bay was tossed.
They tore the earrings from her ears
Who shed for her a mother’s tears?
Our sails would patch their broken roofs
Their food was bought with plundered goods.
A bottle of claret would sate their thirst
And ne’er a word was spoke of us.
Their children slept by the lantern’s light
That drew us to our deaths that night.
A farthing or two my coat would bring
And who would boast my sovereign ring?
And no one knows where I was laid
Down where the wreckers’ children played.


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