and this was why.

"A ship, a vessel - without bow,
Minus helm, rudder and prow,
Run aground, run amok, put about,
With insides royally turned out.

Take this hammer,
Take it to the wheelhouse,
Take this hammer,
Take it to the wheelhouse,
Take this hammer,
Take it to the wheelhouse,
Tell the Captain I'm gone - oh,
Tell him I'm gone.

(...)

Mark my grave,
With a seabed anchor,
Mark my grave,
With a seabed anchor,
Mark my grave,
With a seabed anchor,
At this lonely spot -
Where I'm bound."

(...)

Michael Stevenson, L'Humour Noir, no Pompidou.