High above the teetering mast
A shout long awaited is heard at last
"Land **! Land **! Straight ahead"
Across the sea, the mariners sped

The mass of land, close in range
Ominously, the winds have changed
The ship drops anchor a hundred yards out
Rowing in without a doubt

Making landfall, the ****** cheered
A great appraisal to Brown Beard
Gallivanting, their songs sung loud
Roused, the sea soughed

Ripping from the strenuous tides
The monster emerges, the sea divides
Crashing down upon the ship
Fearful men tighten their grip

Threshing about as the beast descends
Into the depths where the mirk never ends
Duped, the mariners take their last breath
Inhaling, the seas grant them their death

Bloated corpses resurfacing
The dubious island repositioning
Full, the gulls await
For the next to take the bate