The green mist drips from skeletal ships
Becalmed to the seaweed mass
The Sargasso Sea, which favors the lee
Is a jungle one cannot pass
The face of steel does not reveal
The tendrils of kelp below
But when night is nigh, it is easy to spy
The silver-blue ocean plants' glow
This cul-de-sac won't permit turning back
For there's no wind to fill out the sails
Soon eyes cease to blink, and the men cease to think
Staring blindly beyond the deck's rails
The seagulls fight for each fleshy bite
Of the dead, who clutch stomachs quite hollow
Lonely, blanched bones lay like heaps of white stones
They remain, for they're too hard to swallow
Soon as the mold takes command of the hold
The ship becomes part of a fleet
Whose decks are patrolled by gaunt ghosts, I am told
Ever searching for something to eat