As A Swan Song'Ed Fodder, Beats It's Breast. Poem by Michael Gale

As the Swan song'd father beat it's breast....
Strike the main sail-bold of test.
Hasn't thy verbaged, done as told? ...
Like'nd the rest....Of ancient old.
Sparks fly west of Angel Pass...
Ne'er be slowed, by roughened class.
Spent many days upon yon boat...
Over worked calloused hands, do pull and tote.
Fish smells permiate an arid nosed stall...
Banging of drums tensely, for one, won final last call.
Harken thy words of unfiltered cell...
The grasping of word's meanings, often'd-talked and tell.
Seagulls flutter about ocean's unbother...
Deadly tossed to sea, one sunken, as odder.
Waves flash to surface-it's murky dark offer...
Dwindling front of thee, the binding destined coffer.
Bubbles surface from sunkened best...
Long have at thee, a treasured test.
Barnicles scrubbed and massaged-to bottomed boats...
Hulls done touched, by sea's darkened tempest's notes.
Avast years squandered away on less...
Many downed by pirate's greed, for treasured chest.
Dinghies of pearls, swim aloft of virgin's best...
Sailed days filled with times spent many blessed.