29 Souls

There's a mist o'er the hole
where below
on the weary bones of the ghosted iron ship
toil 29 souls

And seven miles on to my horizon
Our star makes love to the great lady's bosom
My mast a cross on the spot of the boiling burn
My foot on the tiller, my weight on the stern

My brother Moriah a wind on my back
I pull in the main, leaving not a trace of slack
The steel lines bite into my hand
a warmth compared to the cold splash of the lady's fan

The Isle of Deception ahead on my left
four foot down on the lee, one hundred fifty off the windward dock
A ghosted pilot and crew still swim, angry at the theft
Tricked and fooled, their airship down, they chose to swim rather than walk

If ten thousand were claimed by the Great Lake Superior
To wander her deep bays and drift over her quay's
To haunt her thick mists and sunfilled bays
When the time comes, I'll steer my bow deep, let the lady grab hold,
make it ten thousand and one to her fold

There's a mist o'er the hole
where below
on the weary bones of the ghosted iron ship
toil 29 souls

Gunner©