Drownd Sailor

Come now, come hear tell-tale a story,
Of my young vibrant friend a sailor.
He was called Witty William Taylor,
And he sought for fame and glory.
He picked his boat and row and coat
And cast upon the dark dreaded sea.
The end he said he wished to see,
That at success, at enemies he may gloat.
He travelled terrains far yet awhile
And waved the sanctum land adieu,
Leaving the serene of his milieu,
To sail the upon the oceans, many a mile.

First, the sea was calm and welcoming
To the naive nestling navigator.
Then like a fiendish alligator,
It turned all gloomy and unwelcoming.
Up and down and left and right
And round about the boat was cast,
And when the all was stable at last,
The sailor was lost to broad daylight.
His luggage was muddled up a wreath,
Tossed high up over and out,
Thrown into the seas waiting mouth,
With nothing save for a gulp of breath.

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