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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 inbetween

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