Now landing on the darkling shore
Mooncrested waves upon the sand
Stones crunching, as if ancient lore
Psammead stirring under land
Lantern lit, the smugglers come
Barnacled boats upon the beach
Chests of contraband for some
And gold for crew's share each
Night riders galloping in night
Away from the Custom spies
Upon the dunes, out of sight
Hid from the Excise eyes
Drink beneath a smugglers moon
With yo ho ho, a merry tune.
JON COMMENTS - As I have explained elsewhere, I will not tolerate comments on individual blog posts where the nature of those comments, usually crass and insulting, wou...
1 day ago