When last ye sailed the winds blew fair Your heart was strong, ye’re breast laid bare ‘Ner, did ye shirk the venture Then stole upon thee, the woe of tides The cruel black night, the crush of pride To bow thy head and bruise thy side: The Whim O’ the God’s, beset ye Tossed about, to and fro Ye wondered, scattered, where told to go Weeping there, in the shadow land While all the while, the sea did call Beckoning, to breach the wall: “Come, return to me!” Yet, away ye sojourned, to a distant place, To lament your crimes, and earn fair Grace: While ye longed, for the last time ye sailed Then broke the day, to smite your chains Your freedom won, washed white your stains The time had come, had passed the rains: No more, did ye shirk, the venture Ye lingered there, upon the shore As the hammers rang, your ship was born While across the sea, the land was torn Where maidens wept, midst roses thorns, Their lovers fell, to battle’s scorn Ye raised ye’re sail, the winds blew fair Ye’re heart was strong, ye’re breast laid bare: Ye did not shirk, the venture Armed with cannon, shot, and steel; Fair the crew, great the zeal Fat the purse, and sure the seal; Upon thy letter, of Marques Away ye went, to seize the day Ye’re pinions grand, and sure the way Ye made demand, and there held sway: Where ye rallied, at the venture The laurel rested, upon thy brow, Waxing strong, ye scoffed the plow; Forsaking humbler ways, Ye gazed out from the ramparts: Glorious, unscathed Then there she came, at evenings set, With shining gold, on heaving breast Lustrous hair, and ivory legs, While men didst stare, as dogs do beg; And ye cast ye’re eye, upon her: For ‘ner, did ye shirk the venture The days passed by in blissful smiles, While there she plotted all the while, Upon the pillows of thy chamber Ye’re gen’rals warned, ye’re servants mocked, The town folk labored, laughed, and scoffed: For well they knew, that fate had knocked But ye, so drunken by her splendor, Reveled midst the cool embrace, Of that wrathful, crazed pretender, While shadows there did render, Her glory Ye did not know, that woman fair Who gave her charms, to warm thy lair Would bring thee low, with vengeance bared; Cruel the blade, blank ye’re stare, Foul the grave that held ye there: When Last Ye Sailed
©2005, Kathleen MacLintock
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