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Tossed upon the azure waters,
Gallant Bounty’s seaward bound
To waters threatening to drown
The sound of sailor’s songs inside.

Creaking, rasping, moaning, longing
For the taste of salt in its sails,
As it used to find in long, hard trails,
From Plymouth to Australian shores.

A mutiny lies deep in its veins
Yet the ship was the one left to die,
Abandoned, shelved up high,
It was left to navigate its own,
As memories regain my soul.

Its wood holds subconscious memories,
A sentiment held through the years.
Held through sun and tears
To the tip of my pencil today.