Aye, many a captain sailed her with pride;
some called her a harlot, some called her a bride.

Bad times fell on Anna as she grew old;
soon she was shoved from the big shippers fold.
Her years were many; her value now low,
but hauling death made some coffers grow.

Jungle grown snow and Columbian Gold
were hidden deep in her vast cargo hold.

Justice prevailed, as in many cases;
too many times caught in the wrong places.
Anna was towed to her grave site at sea;
in a great explosion, she was set free.

At a hundred plus she lay on the port side;
she’d no longer sail with the next good tide.

This tale does not end with Anna’s demise;
she lives again, with new life she’ll arise.

A home for sea creatures both large and small,
Anna, our Anna has answered a call.

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