I. Ice for a captain, iron for a crew, orange sails coming, nothing left to do but fire when she tells you, and not one breath before— heave, boys, heave, there's a debt at the door. II. A ship with no captain, a ship with no crew, sailing dead water the way dead things do. No bell for a warning, no wind worth the name— some debts don't drown, boys, they just wear a different name. III. He rhymed for the captain, he rhymed for the crew, a verse for the frightened and the frightened few. Fear came in three shapes before the dark grew— and the last one he wrote, boys, was for someone he knew. IV. One sail was a warning, we told ourselves so. A fleet full of nothing where nothing should go. Count the dead ships, boys, count if you dare— the counting won't save you, they're already there. V. Steal it back quiet, steal it back loud, a crown made of habit, a king made of crowd. He wants what we're carrying, we want it too— there's no honor in treasure, just who gets it through. VI. A puddle don't open, a puddle don't speak, but something climbed out of the shallow and bleak. One look, one gem, and gone with the tide— we never once asked it, and it never once lied. VII. A hundred dead hulls holding treasure and bone, more gold than a kingdom has ever once known. Take what you're given, boys, take what you find— just don't ask the cards what they left behind. VIII. Someone is counting, though nobody's seen, someone is watching from somewhere between. We never once caught him, we never once tried— some eyes just watch, boys, and never decide. IX. The sea was too sea, boys, the sky was too sky, and every strange thing had a reason we'd deny. Call it a storm, call it only a dream— call it whatever you like, it's still what it seemed. X. She kept the whole tale folded close to her chest, and told us the parts that would let us rest. But some truths get heavier the longer they're kept— so she opened her mouth, and the rest of us wept. XI. We stepped through a door and the door disappeared, and the sea and the ships and the debt that we feared. Pour us an ale, boys, pour us one more— there's always another tale walking through that door.
