The Sighting Is a Portent Of Doom

In the age of electricity and oil

My tugboat ploughs through waveless liquid soil

Cruising at thirteen knots on pitch black sea

There's a strange object on the radars in front of me

Still nothing I can see

Just an open dreary sea

Several attempts to contact that what appeared to be the size of a ship

No response 'till I receive transmissions of hostile nature

These voices cursing my goddamn name

Hell, is this witchcraft or am I insane?

All of a sudden a dark silhouette ascends through godlike mist.

While it comes closer, I recognize the image of an old deserted ship

I am aghast at the sight of a derelict vessel sailing this awkward night

Appearing like a black floating cadaver

There's not one single man aboard

Her torn sails cloaking her like a cobwebbed widow

Posing against this sad nightmarish horizon

The temperature suddenly dropped

My great-grandfather's clock, just ticking, now stopped

I am smothered by a sudden shroud of fear

For there's a ghost ship 'pon a funereal quest

With a black bird circling hypnotic around its rocking empty crow's nest

Fortunately this atrocious mystery sets sail away from me

Some sailors claim other seamen beheld such sights

Most died weird deaths during fog-clad days and nights

The ship vanished as suddenly as it appeared

Should I feel fear? Was it even there?