Climb to the watchers so high on the dams, go round to the village, go round to the town,
go fetch the blacksmith the tale of the boys, or others are sure to be lost, sure to be drowned.
The sea it is rolling and roiling so deep, with many a white horses and making their leap,
trying to take the souls into its steps, their lungs filled with water, their eyes close to sleep.
You bring the ropes there and I'll bring the flocks, let's hurry, not hurry, to give those foals hope,
and rescue them from the most watery grave, the sea wants their bodies, the reef wants the boat.
Look at the boat there, look down the cliff, near tearing of metal as she bends and she twists,
there's no time to lose if we're going to help, look how she leans now, look how she lives.
The townsfolk arrive on that world gravel shore, for a score of men there and plenty much more,
too late for the people aboard as she breaks, gone down in the waves to the deep ocean floor.
Now graves we must dig as we sweat and we toil, no more foam to see and no more does it boil,
a merchant ship lost but her cargo remains an abundance abounds as we keep the spoils.
you
