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A Shanty For the Salty Wastes


Gilbert Syndrome

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We're lost at sea, we float wearily
There's a hunger deep inside our bones

Our flesh now cracked in the salty cold
And our tired boat just idly roams

We got done talking, moons ago
Now we just sit in silent thought
Nothing to drink except the ocean's cruel blend
And not a single damn fish have we caught

It got quite desperate, you see, adrift out at sea
And all this salt water has sent us quite mad

When the black night fell and the cabin boy slept
Well, we did a thing oh so terribly bad

We first slit his throat and we lapped up the sauce
Then we each had a feast on his stiffening corpse
We plucked out his eyeballs and sucked out the juice
Then we threw up the meal, fast, hot and loose

Still, not much was left by two mornings past
Just the cry of the gulls and the lonely flap of the mast
© Apr 2017, Michael John Gilchrist 
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