Woe Is the Sailor

Cannons fire,
Loud and clear,
Every blast,
I'm sure to hear.
O woe is the world
Who lives with toil,
In endless war,
And great turmoil.
Alas, I grieve,
With such great sorrow,
I can never promise my children;
Their safety tomorrow.
I will strive,
I swear,
In spite of our strife,
I will, I swear, come home to my wife.
On the bow of this beauty,
This great beast of a ship,
I deftly carry out my duty,
For I am the sailor who took this long trip.
To fight for our king, our nation, but above all, myself,
O woe is this war, in the year 1812.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem