Dark waters churn, an eerie disturbance —
The air is fraught with a peculiar sense;
A blackened sky looms overhead,
And faintly felt are the hands of the dead.

An empty sea, not a living soul save me —
Yet from my place upon the shore
Echo the sounds of ringing bells;
Haunting are these ghostly chimes,
Accompanied by the creaks of groaning wood;
The sable sea is no friend to vessels —
So is this now where the poor ship dwells?