Deep within the sightless waters
‘Neath smokey waves atop
A murdering mind meanders
On mortal lives she shall stop.
Spirits of mischief be her aid.
A heart of gall bears no remorse
Only cruel laughter conveyed.
And onward with her dire course!
Of a sailor's existence, she doth detest
Of a sailor's song, she doth despise
To a silent death she will lay them rest.
On her sea, they meet their demise.
Over seemingly serene seas
I beg thee, take heed to cross
For the mistress of hell may be displeased
And thou too, may find thyself beneath the froth.

© Jennifer Hill 1999