It was a message in a bottle,
Written in a cursive hand,
It spoke of loss and loneliness,
In a foreign land.

It was a message in a bottle,
From a sailor now marooned,
Cast ashore for mutiny,
But he was sore impugned.

It was a message in a bottle,
From somewhere quite remote,
Begging for aid and succour,
To be picked up by passing boat.

It was a message in a bottle,
From a man lost and alone,
Begging for a kindness,
For some mercy to be shown.

It was a message in a bottle,
And I swear I shed a tear,
For the sad misfortune,
Of this so-called buccaneer!

It was a message in a bottle,
That washed up on my beach,
And I felt sad the man who wrote it,
Was well beyond my reach.

It was a message in a bottle,
And it spoke straight to my soul,
As if the man who wrote it,
Sprung from it formed completely whole.

It was a message in a bottle,
And if I could I would,
Jump into smack or schooner,
And rescue him for good.

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