The Ship
The sky was as black as black can be,
the ship was tossed on a stormy sea,
the waves they crashed against the rocks,
whilst the sailors cursed and washed their socks.
The ship did roll,
the spray did fly,
(the Captain got some in his eye)
and each man was certain that he would die,
as he hung out his socks and he left them to dry.
Then the ship it struck the rocks!
Then it began to sink!
The sailors died without their socks,
with their pants in a bowl in the sink.
Pieter Sanders
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 05/24/2026
Poet's note: Written by me, age 12, during a boring mathematics class at school in Wimbledon, England, in 1968.
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