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"Well met, well met", said an old true love.
"Well met, well met", said he.
"I have just returned from the salt, salt sea.
And it's all for the love of thee."
"Come in, come in, my own true love,
And have a seat by me.
It's been three-fourths of a long, long year,
Since together, we have been."

"I can't come in and I can't sit down,
For I've only a moment's time.
They say you're married to a house carpenter,
And your heart will never be mine."

"I could have married a King's daughter, fair,
And she would have married me,
But I have forsaken her crowns of gold,
And it's all for the love of thee."

"Now you forsake your house carpenter,
And go along with me.
I'll take you where the grass grows green.
On the banks of the deep blue sea."

Then she picked up a darlin' little babe,
And kisses, she gave it three.
Saying "Stay right here, my dalrin' little baby,
And keep your pappa company."

They had not been on the ship two weeks,
I'm sure it was not three,
Till his true love began to weep and to mourn,
And she wept most bitterly.

Sayin': "Are you weepin' for my silver and my gold."
Sayin': "Are you weepin' for my store?
"Or are you weepin' for your house carpenter,
"Whose face you'll never see no more?"

"A curse, a curse to the sailor," she cried.
"A curse, a curse," she swore.
"You robbed me of my darlin' little babe,
That I shall never see no more."

They had not been on the ship three weeks,
I'm sure it was not four,
When there came a leak in the bottom of the ship,
And sank them for to rise no more.

When I was in high school we had a vigil. It was years ago today. I wrote, then read a poem, and burned it later that night, in memory of one of the friends I had already lost to AIDS. There had been two others by then, who I had already commemorated in my own way, and three more since then. This song is the closest mix of loss and futility I feel when I ponder their departure. I hope someday there will be a world where nobody knows this feeling.


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Dec. 1st, 2005 08:03 pm (UTC)
i never quite realized what a morbidly-creepy song that is. and yet, the lighthouse's tale is still my standard for helplessness
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )


Steam Escaping!
The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers.

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