when the prow ploughed down to the bottom,
the passengers believed death had got ’em;
they shrieked and they howled like the dickens,
thrashed about like electrified chickens;
fought the waves and each other
for a dinghy made of rubber –
which got torn apart anyway
in the heat of the fray…
But a skinny old lady named Mave
with already one foot in the grave
was non-plussed, wouldn’t fret anymore.
She rolled over … and floated to shore.
on second thought, it’s not half bad as a parable
as it expresses precisely what I believe