The Flying Dutchman ' Lost In A Crimson Horizon ' Poem by Danny The Dreamer Boyd

She sails without a wind or breeze,
In the nights of fog and mist;
She's like a warden with the keys,
To souls with clogs and sin desist.

Condemned never to land ashore:
For the hellish things they have done;
And so she sailed and sailed for more,
In the crumbling waves and for eon.

Of health and wealth, they all had plenty;
Yet with filth and stealth, these pirates did soar,
And snuck from behind every ship at sea,
Murdering mariners mercilessly, and their poor blood outpour.

As once a beast, that on spirits feasts, they came across;
And with no rest, through the fog and mist, towards him they ran.
'I hold treasures beyond measure! ' and then he did toss
A coin of gold, and thus they were trolled, to carry out a bargain.

'You collect the souls that roam the stern seas for me,
And in return, ' with an anxious burn, 'A coin for every drop you slop! '
And so they slaughtered all the souls they could discern savagely;
And the blood, back to the beast, became their guide and prop.

And on a track of red, beneath the bright moon light,
The ship shined like a ghost that in the darkness sled;
Then the ghost got lost: for all the horizon a crimson sight,
And the waves as if some scarlet sprites! were pangs that widely spread.

With a shadow of dread, the ship moved onwards evermore!
And on a sanguine sea sailed seeking the promised gold;
And all the blood had them misled, yet with a yonder shore,
Still sailed and sailed for more, with only A Crimson Horizon to behold.