The great waves did crash upon the land,

Soaking all in salt, mud, and sand,

Washed way was man of yore,

Replaced with putrid stinking sore.

Yet on the land, the water set,

Of marshy bog and parapet,

A watchful eye peeks all around,

Sneaky and vile in its hunting ground.

The newer joiner in the marshy vale,

With glowing eyes and night like scale,

Did curse this all it’s plain to see,

Hidden behind the rotting boggy trees.