The mysterious cargo of the stricken Indian ship

Was washed up on southern coasts for the next few years

Its presence and its musical qualities were much valued

I actually have a few examples in a glass jar on my desk

The tar substitute is even with its shingle additions

Is quite ordinary to the touch but that is where it ends

As even after all these years a quiet hum can still be heard

This hum however is accompanied by a long lost ghost

An oriental girl of immature years so slight

That you might consider that she is a child

Until you witness her white face and jet eyes

At present this ghost is trapped in my jar

Which slowly illuminates

During her rare visitations

Her hums are distinct but very brief

It is fancifully supposed by some

That she is the ghost of a stowaway

Who drowned trapped in a morass of tar

But this is one of many stories

Others state that she floats above the sea

I have not seen this although my house

Overlooks the sea and the grave of the Indian ship

Which was lost so many years ago

My fading fragments of tar do hum quietly

And on certain dull days I am sure that

I can see the ghost of girl drifting within my jar