Our ship ran aground on this strange foreign shore We barely had water, and food anymore Four went to hunt, only two to return Telling weird tales that made our nerves burn: Out in the woods, each two took one course And then blood-curdling screams and battle-noise rose Nothing was left of those adamantine men Their guns were all bent and the cutlasses torn They found no more traces than foul-smelling slime What creatures would leave - that sort of grime? We soon were to learn, when at night darkness fell They came over the cliffs - abhorrent creatures from hell! Not human, not kraken, but somehow in-between With lust for our flesh, and quite battle-keen The fight went forever and losses were high Only three of us left, the end being nigh Now we made our retreat on the top of the cliff Besieged by those beasts and by our fate miffed! The last straw seems writing this notice to YOU But when the bottle is found I guess our end was long due