Fearing the monstrous, bursting fight--
Behind them Avalon beach fanged white.
The Edna Irene crept toward the shore,
Her line nigh parted--stricken sore!

In hospital bed her owner lay.
The “friend” days past had gone away.
Then brave George Bibson breasted storm,
Bribed to change a line not worn,

On a glittering, insured crystal toy
Of no more use than a kite to boy,
A yacht hard by the stricken boat,
George passed Irene to sink or float.

The Edna Irene, like abandoned dead
Shuddering back, the stones to wed
And striking thunder of surf and spray
Crashed ashore in Avalon Bay.

Unwitting owner in hospital cot
Heard of storm but worried not
For who would fail to trust a friend
To the very day the world will end?

Lifted, pounded, twisted, crushed
Over the ship the sea had rushed,
And surf and tide and wind held prey
While Havoc reigned on Avalon Bay.

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