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OLD FID (Bill Lowndes) I'll sing you a song of the rolling sky Of lands far beyond the main Of the ebb tide bell and the salt pork meal That I'll never know me again I mind the times as we were becalmed With never a breath for the sheets The red sun was so hot that the water would rot And the decking would blister your feet cho: So don't ask me where I've damned well been And don't ask me what I did For every thumb was a marlinespike and every finger a fid And then there's the times that we rounded the Horn With cargoes of silk for Cadiz The swell roll was so high It were lashing the sky Lord the whole bloody world's in a fizz Whether spices from Java or copra from Yap Or a bosun too free with the cat It was haul up the anchor and roll out that spanker And dammit move faster than that I've loved the proud women from Spain's dusty plains I've seen where the Arab girls sleep And the black girls as well though they're fiercer than Hell Have all kissed me when silver was cheap Lord, how the man's changed from that young cabin boy to the old man who sits on this bench for I'm too old to fight or to stay out all night In the comp'ny of some pretty wench Just an old clipper man who's long past his best years And I know that I'll never be free From the smell of the tar that once braided my hair Or the salty old tang of the sea from "Victory Sings at Sea" Victory Music 10407 S.W.Cowan Vashon WA 98070 Copyright Bill Lowndes @sailor filename[ OLDFID SGL APR99 |
Old Fid |
