The Death of the Nordvag

Bad news came that day

and it was terrible for me:

the Norvag's been abandoned

to the mercy of the sea.

We once crewed a gallant ship

that sails my memory,

the broad and beamy Nordvag,

from the salty Baltic Sea.

In truth, she was a noble ship

well built of Baltic wood,

with Dragon carved in bulkhead,

copper Mermaids on her hood,

dolphins curved in bookshelves,

and dancing round her bow,

she was a sight with bellied sails,

when we stood at her prow,

but how I think we'd rant and rail

if we could see her now.

When she turned to face the storm

in the Caribbean Sea

off the Golfo de Pirates

she showed her quality.

When the ocean was a foaming hell

that made other vessels flee,

we surfed waves full masthead high

and lived triumphantly.

Now the Nordvag lies forgotten

At the bottom of the sea.

Every time I hear the sea

crashing on the shore,

I think of the Nordvag

and our blue water tour:

the mad adventures we survived

in our floating caravan,

the Nordvag riding on the waves

of unknown, foreign lands,

while we rested in the sun

on exotic golden sands.

When I was a wild gypsy girl

and the wicked world did roam,

the Nordvag was my soul's abode,

My only, ever home.

And when my life comes to an end,

we will together sail,

and roam the oceans always,

me at the wheelhouse rail.

For the Nordvag has a soul like mine:

unfettered, ever free,

and we cannot forget her,

and her gift of liberty.

But now its time to weep and wail

and write sad poetry,

for the Nordvag lies forsaken

in the cold and cruel sea.