The Idler on the Shore

based on a Norfolk legend

I cannot swim, but still I come to land
At night, when foolish denizens may see
My misty body, tortured like a hand
Inside a vice. From the sea
That body floats with head between the blades,
Of shoulders long since rotted in the sod.

Packed tight once Death had come, and only shades
Were now my soul, the smugglers trod
Towards the well and cast me without legs.
My head hung neatly down my back,
The bundle fell and struck the gory dregs,
And so the well became a bloodied sack.

I do not cry, or moan, or curse, like shades
Are often thought to do, but wander by
The modern huts, and promenades,
Much like an idle man in life. I fly
Between the ruins of the sandcastles,
Lamenting that I cannot see the sky.