Where have all the sailors gone?
Long missing from the port and docks.
Fisherman, loggers with piercing eyes, and broader bumpus wit, fists that don’t quit for Friday night fury. The noise that shook the shore and the reef.
Beneath the mist, a hidden ship from the dark days of yore and the pirate and whore set fire to the oceans.
Where are these bygone days now, with liars in the throng?
Is the song being sung? Down at the wharf?
A forgetful somber piece.
Of days gone by and merry women long, for that hairy prince in from the wind.
Sins tossed on to the street.
Meat curtains close.
And this old town is done.