The Death of Nordvag

© Copyright Cherie Pugh, 2010



Well its bad news for you
and its terrible for me:
the Norvag's been abandoned
to the mercy of the sea.
We once crewed a gallant ship
that sails my memory,
the strong and beamy Nordvag,
from the salty Baltic Sea.

Brian sailed her to Toronto
on his dream journey,
and we voyaged over oceans
from Bermuda to Fiji,
around the Caribbean,
across to Hawaii,
from New Zealand to Australia,
through unknown territory,
and many times we risked her life
quite accidentally.

In truth, she was a noble ship
well built of Baltic wood
with Dragon carved in bulkheads,
copper Mermaids on her hood,
dolphins carved in bookshelves,
and dancing round her bow.
She was a sight with bellied sails,
when we stood at her prow,
but how I think we'd weep and wail
if we could see her now.

When she turned to face the storm
in the Caribbean Sea
off the Golfo de Pirates
she showed her quality.
When the ocean was a foaming hell
that made other vessels flee,
she surfed waves full masthead high
and lived triumphantly.
Now the Nordvag lies forgotten
At the bottom of the sea.

Every time I hear the sea
crashing on the shore,
I think of the Nordvag
and the time I knew before:
the mad adventures we survived
in our floating caravan,
the Nordvag riding on the waves
of unknown, foreign lands.

When I was a gypsy girl
and the wicked world did roam,
the Nordvag was my soul's abode,
My only, ever home.
And when my life comes to an end,
We will together sail,
and roam the oceans always,
me at the wheelhouse rail.
For the Nordvag has a soul like mine:
unfettered, ever free,
and we cannot forget her,
and her gift of liberty.

But now its time to weep and wail
and write sad poetry,
for the Nordvag lies forsaken
in the cold and cruel sea.