Analysis of Trek of Insanity

We lept to the shore

From our strange craft

Large Rapids before us

The days of dull drifting

And numbers had failed

No time for the burials

Just time to divide

All their loot.

And crimes done

So numerous, disdainful.

This lust for the gold

Left strange fruit.

A potful of java

A warm fire, songs

Faking some cheer.

But Death still

Awaited His dinners.

Before ere the Dawson

The whiskey and women.

The foolishness bought

With one’s poke.

And would there be

Or rather Fate’s

The toss of a life

In the frozen.

The loss of wife

Children and Home.

The thrill of those

Curtained skies calling.

The call of the harpies