Two Dead Whalers Rotting On the Beach
Two killers lie beached like dying whales, Bleeding rust onto volcanic sand, We pirates have some passionate tales, This our unique brand, sunk by our hand. Lying dead on a cold northern beach. Rotting for over three long decades, Victims forever out of their reach, On this lonely strand playing charades. Evil permeates the wooden decks. The stench of death lingers in the air, Extraordinary wondrous wrecks, So lovely in utter disrepair. Coronado and Howitt did that job, Courageously, passionately,…