As a little extra, I'll post this poem I wrote about a Nova Scotia shipwreck I'm hoping to get published on ViewHound (I'm quite an advertiser am I not?) I know it's not great or even good but a piece of work is a piece of work.
In the stormy night off Nova Scotia
The ship built so fine
Steering its way to the harbour
Ignoring the lighthouse shine
12 miles off course
Headed west of the dock
With plenty of force
Came a terrible shock
No note of the waters
No lookout to be seen
Men, women, sons and daughters
Soon came to a horrible scene
The Marr’s Head,
The deadly rock
Wanting them dead,
Put them all on the block
Of 900 on board
500 had died
Blood of the dead poured
While 300 survived
All women and children perished
All but one little boy
No memories will be cherished
No more small presents and toys
A crewman wasn’t a man
He went by the name of Bill
He could have been an Ann
Who came from the Ville
Being one of the guys
A right crew favourite
She looked up to the skies
And remembered to savour it
April 1, 1873
Marked the date
She descended to the sea
Taking the people and taking the freight
Taking it all and taking the weight
The weeks have come
The weeks have gone
The mood was glum
When the bodies were drawn
Many ships before her
Fell victim to the land
At the bottom, without a stir
Buried beneath the sand
The ships keep sailing
The sea keeps taking
Humans are failing
And the ships are breaking
Twenty five thousand wrecks
Scattered all around
Broken ships, broken decks
Waiting for the next to be downed
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