Rime of the ancient Mariner

• with my crossbow i shot the albatross
• and i had done a hellish thing, and it would work em woe
• day after day, day after day we stuck, nor breath nor motion, as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean
• water water everywhere nor a drop to drink
• we could not speak, no more than if we had been choked with soot
• instead of the cross, the albatross about my neck was hung
• i but my arm i sucked the blood
• her lips were red her looks were free
• her locks were yellow as gold
• her skin was as white as leoprosy
• the nightmare life in death was she
• every soul it passed my by like the whizz of my crossbow
• alone on a wide wide sea
• and a thousand thousand slimy things lived on and so did i
• the albatross fell off and sank like lead into the sea
• the man hath pence done and penance more will do
• it is the hermit good, he‘ll shrieve my soul, he’ll wash away the albatross blood
• this heartt within me burns
• he prayeth best who loveth best all things both great and small
• he rose the morrow morn