Homework Jan 25: The Sultan's Gold
Posted: Thu Jan 15, 2015 9:05 am
More of a shanty, this one.
The Sultan’s Gold
Off the coast of South Australia there’s a legend, so I’m told,
of a triple-masted schooner with a cargo full of gold
that was looted from the palace of a Sultan from the East,
who then had it cursed forever by an ancient shaman priest.
But the captain was a pirate who thought superstition mad,
so he laughed at fickle fortune and said only cowards had
any thoughts of being frightened by some silly foreign curse,
for he’d faced the Roaring Forties, and knew nothing could be worse.
So he set a course for Melbourne on the trade winds through the Bight,
with the journey uneventful till one clear and starry night,
when, with phosphorescence shining on the surface of the sea,
he relaxed against the taffrail as if anchored at the quay.
But this moment so beguiling lulled his senses half-asleep,
and he thought he might be dreaming at the changes in the deep,
for the silver altered colour till it glittered just like gold,
and this mesmerising vision was a marvel to behold.
For the captain saw a fortune there beneath him on the waves,
a far greater slice of heaven, as each thieving scoundrel craves,
so he leaned a little further, for it lay just out of reach,
this enticing, wondrous treasure, spread like sand upon the beach.
Then he heard the mermaids singing and the seas began to rise,
till the glitter touched his fingers and he claimed his precious prize,
but the waves crept even higher on that brilliant starlit night,
and the ship slipped underwater bathed in eerie golden light.
Now the sailors tell a story of those midnight hours so still,
when the mermaids sing their love songs to help keep away the chill,
and they see an apparition, like a phantom ship of old,
where a ghostly voice is crying: “You will never take my gold!”
© David Campbell 15/01/15
The Sultan’s Gold
Off the coast of South Australia there’s a legend, so I’m told,
of a triple-masted schooner with a cargo full of gold
that was looted from the palace of a Sultan from the East,
who then had it cursed forever by an ancient shaman priest.
But the captain was a pirate who thought superstition mad,
so he laughed at fickle fortune and said only cowards had
any thoughts of being frightened by some silly foreign curse,
for he’d faced the Roaring Forties, and knew nothing could be worse.
So he set a course for Melbourne on the trade winds through the Bight,
with the journey uneventful till one clear and starry night,
when, with phosphorescence shining on the surface of the sea,
he relaxed against the taffrail as if anchored at the quay.
But this moment so beguiling lulled his senses half-asleep,
and he thought he might be dreaming at the changes in the deep,
for the silver altered colour till it glittered just like gold,
and this mesmerising vision was a marvel to behold.
For the captain saw a fortune there beneath him on the waves,
a far greater slice of heaven, as each thieving scoundrel craves,
so he leaned a little further, for it lay just out of reach,
this enticing, wondrous treasure, spread like sand upon the beach.
Then he heard the mermaids singing and the seas began to rise,
till the glitter touched his fingers and he claimed his precious prize,
but the waves crept even higher on that brilliant starlit night,
and the ship slipped underwater bathed in eerie golden light.
Now the sailors tell a story of those midnight hours so still,
when the mermaids sing their love songs to help keep away the chill,
and they see an apparition, like a phantom ship of old,
where a ghostly voice is crying: “You will never take my gold!”
© David Campbell 15/01/15
Great little tale David.
