They nabbed me poaching last spring
said I could choose to sail or swing
told me a cabin boy I'd be
sold me the slops, shipped me to sea made a sailor out of me.
It seems the order was clear:
‘go see if anything's there'
so our ship set sail
found her course, and in a month
a hundred souls slipped through the veil
to state our claim to the Hollow Lands
So, washed clean of our sins
we were borne before the wind
but paying heed to the muttering men
the ship is cursed, and we'll be lucky
to ever come back home again.
From the Hollow Lands
it's a fool's errand
and a vain attempt:
a vainglorious dream dreamt.