What debris lay on the shore
by the oar and wooden crate?
Who knows what the tide washed in,
or sins Goodwin Sands relate?
Was a woman’s bad omen
wrought ship’s men a timeless fate
on the Lady Lovibond,
where rages spawned in firstmate.
Killed the sailor at the wheel.
Forced ship to reel into shoals.
Everyone was lost at sea.
Now every fifty years, souls
see that ghost ship off Dover Straits,
after seventeen forty eight.