“the woman and the bell”
“captain, if it’s all the same to you
let me ready a lifeboat–”
“sorry, son, though your heart may be true,
you’d best get it stoutened or i’ll run it through.
here’s a sip to wash the wicked words back down your throat.
“i know my ship, my catch, and my men,
and i know what you think you’ve seen–”
“captain, you may well take offense,
but something has to be done nonetheless
or it’s off to davy’s locker for to calm the sea.
“sir, it’s angry, you’re not listening, i saw a woman, i heard a bell.
“captain, the rum welling up in your eyes
will chase neither care nor curse–”
“nor will abstinence, son, for my fertile mind bore this ghost
of the true sove that i’ve left behind, and you’ll make her haunt
no lifeboat while i’m gone from her.
“i hear the peal of our wedding bells
many miles away and months from now–”
“captain, if you can’t but do well by a phantom future, you’re destined
to dwell and weep and gnash your teeth with all the rightly drowned.
“sir, i’m fighting for a home on the fiddler’s green,
not for a woman and a bell.
“captain, the sea took your ship, catch, and men,
left you, me, and this lifeboat–”
“sorry, son, you’re dead wrong again. i’ll sail on with only the love you
condemn, having offered up your weak heart for a safe trip home.”