Poseidon's reproval

Born of this world to the sirens dread call,
The kind of which could lull us from our home,
And thus, no river wide nor mountains tall,
Could ever forbid me the taste of foam,

For seawater, the essence of my eye,
And now salt would become my aliment,
For on the water I'll be when I die,
With my soul on the lockers battlement,

No earthly ties or mortal relations,
Can bid me to fear of Davy Jones,
unbound to realms of worldly nations,
Rebuking Poseidon as he bemoans.