Here I tell you a tale quite grim,
On this gelid autumn eve,
Of a vessel taken by the great blue,
A languid ship dubbed the Dead Jester,
Of no particular valour nor deed was this ship known,
Save for the incompetence of its circus of a crew,
Captained by a blind clown of advanced years,
A lookout unable to discern port from star,
And helmed by a mute convicted maniac,
The locker had only to wait for its prize,
The waves have all the time in the world after all,
This abomination of a crew,
They were destined for the abyss,
They had no care for this fate though,
There were nightly mutinies over scraps,
Every malm travelled was stricken with insane discontent,
Clowns wrestled with jugglers over imaginary lifeboats,
One man carved a hole in the hull looking for god,
The ship obliged yet in the wrong direction,
As the terminal aspect of the vessel descended,
No souls of worth were lost,
None shall be missed or mourned.
