“The Lament of the Lucretian”

Bare-away, Charlie, Back her up! She's filled to the rim like a saltwater cup. Heat up her engines Into the lee — Do you hear that sound? All hands hoay! Poor old Lucie's run a ground — Too late, Charlie, Let it be. There goes another man plucked by the sea... “The Lament of the Lucretia”

 

 

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