Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Foolish Lad

One foolish lad stood on the sandy shore
And longed for freedom of the open sea.
He listened there as breakers loudly roared;
That foolish lad, my brothers, he was me.
For I was sick to tears of permanence,
Solidity as dreadful as the grave.
My soul cried out for vast and distant lands;
I hungered for the rolling of the waves.
Oh! Had I known what terrors lay in wait,
What devils hid beneath the deep blue sea,
Perhaps I would have grasped a solid fate,
And lived a simple life within the lee.

So sing, my brothers! Sing a mournful tune,
Amidst the barnacles and dead men's bones.
As waves are stilled beneath a cold gray moon,
Sink down to murky depths with Davy Jones.
And sing farewell to all the world above,
For I shall see no more my lady love.

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