Set for St. Alban's

A little write inspired by Halloween's approach

You can pull up the ladders, Jack

The rest of them aren't worth the wait

All that matters is our freight

We can't afford to be late

You can hoist up all the sails, mate

We've our Master's coffin below

We must get him home, you know

We've many miles to go

You can set sail for St. Alban's, boys

We will have a fortune to share

Once we've gotten there

And we've little time to spare

You can pray to Saint Brendan, son

For we've got the undead below

We must get him home, you know

To collect all we are owed

You can pull up the ladders, Jack

Where we sail there is no way back

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Could you please direct me to Transylvannia?
My GPS has stopped working.
j.