The Chest

Far out at sea the mariners say,
Deep below the waves today,
And last year and all before,
Lies buried deep far out from shore.
A big green chest chained up you see.
Far from either you or me.

Now in this chest these legends go,
Amongst the fish where wet winds blow.
Deep down amid the brick and brack,
In a big green chest, not in a sack.
Are all the things better left unsaid,
keeping their company with the dead.

The walking dead, or in this case:
The swimming dead, that might give chase,
And eat your heart (or chew on it).
Around that chest that does but sit
Kept safe from all those prying hands,
And sealed tight with iron bands.

What evil does it keep inside?
What wonders does it tightly hide?
I’ll ask you twice my curious friend,
What secrets does it quietly tend?
Only the dwarfs and daisies know,
What songs that chest is laying low.

From this day forward ne’er speak of it.
And don’t break out yon treasure kit.
Because the shut up chest unfound,
Keeps something safe much more profound.
And that’s a friendship cherished more,
Than any treasure I might adore.