In legends told of sea and strife,
A witch of power, fierce in life,
Conjured forth with spell and might,
A whirlpool vast, a fearsome sight.
The pirate sailed from Ulster’s shore,
With greed and darkness at his core.
His ship cut through the ocean’s tide,
But fate would not let him abide.
The witch gazed deep into his soul,
A heart as black as charred coal.
With whispered words and hands outspread,
She called the Corryvreckan’s dread.
The swirling waters rose and spun,
A trap, a curse, for what he’d done.
It pulled his ship, his crew, his reign,
To depths where none would rise again.
And so, beneath the waves so wild,
The land of Scotland, reconciled,
Was freed from Ulster’s ruthless hand,
By the sea witch’s eternal stand.
