The guests are in town, where a wedding’s going down,
What’s that ancient thing guest of the groom sees?
Gray hair on his head…looks like he’s nearly dead,
And his eyes are bleary, drenched, and rheumy.

He’d been out to sea before, and he began to spout lore;
He pled with voice of doom, “Listen to me!”
Groomsman: “What’s with you? I’ve a wedding to do!”
He feared the ancient man might be loony.

“The ship,” the man cried, “set off on the morning tide,
With mate, and a crew, and a bosun.
We rode upon the foam and we roamed far from home.
By the captain our course was well-chosen.”

Tale made Gerald squirm; the wretch must be head-infirm,
Or perhaps he was loaded, thus spielin’.
But he held Gerald with his skinny hand;
More of the story he started reelin’.

The wind he respired made a babble-gale sound—
As he raved on, engaged in tale-spin.
And then Gerald knew: He’d have to see it through.
He twitched as on the ancient kept railin’.

He told the fate of the captain, crew, and mate;
In a gale, from his mouth, wind was blastin’,
He rued of the pain of the crew on the main,
And his face revealed: His teeth were gnashin’

When scupper slime came, some crew slipped on the deck,
Because in ocean’s wash was some seaweed.
It was only then he observed—not a wren,
But an albatross looking for sea feed.

The bird was a friend; what caused the man’s mind to bend?
As he sought his crossbow, he looked feral.
It wasn’t right as he got the bird’s flight in sight…
Pulled the string tight, causing fletcher peril.

The bird, white as snow, to the deck fell, below,
And the swabbies all started to glower.
They said to him, “Hey! The white bird…why’d you slay it?
’cause now we’ve lost our good-luck power!!”
They picked up the bird…non-booby booby prize
While chastising him for the slaughter.
And much to his shame, they hung the corpse like a chain
’round his neck, screaming, “You shouldn’t oughta!!”

The ship stopped rolling on waves in the drink.
They felt doomed while marooned in the doldrums.
Was it fever dreams causing what they had seen?
Couldn’t believe what their eyes told ’em.

It’s such a freak show; most dare not peek, though,
A few look on the spectral splendor.
And what scares them the most is that ship that’s full of ghosts…
Visions you’d engender on a bender.

Off the carcass did fall; the old man could pray,
Though the ship was far from a cathedral.
Just at that time ended the Mariner’s rime,
Which had sounded completely Medieval.

Guest Gerald felt down as he egressed back to town;
The Mariner’s tale was truly spooky.
After all that was said; it’s led him in his head
Too conclude: the dude’s opium-kooky.