part one: all hands on deck (a summoning of great import)

sir walter mcgown
was a father and clown
and a writer in '73
he lived on a boat
with a pigeon and goat
and a half-hearted love of the sea
for 42 years
he hadn't a tear
or a reason for leaving the dock
until on the morn
of april 24
came word that began with a knock
at the steps of his door
walt stood on the floor
a horror awake in his head
as the messanger spoke
with a crack in his throat
"my dear sir your poor boy is dead"
said walter mcgown
collapsed to the grown
"how could something so grim come to be?"
"your boy had gone mad,"
he spoke, cold and flat,
"and hung himself from an oak tree"
and the messanger left
with mcgown now bereft
mustering only a half-hearted tear
as he lay on his back
slipping into the black
of a peace only dreams can hear.