BALLAD OF THE FIVE CONTINENTS
(Words: Charles Causley, music: Bob & Carole Pegg)

In blue Bristol city at tall-tide I wandered
Down where the sea-masts their signals were shining,
I heard a proud seaman on the poop-deck reclining
Shout to the stars that about the ship blundered
On the high harbour lie six shifty daughters
Their bodies are straight, their eyes are wide
Here is the key of their burly bedchamber
I have unlocked it, I replied.

As I went down Water Street beneath the blond sun
The trees of cold Christmas screaming with starlings,
Sweet screamed the birds as my delicate darlings
Scanned at my hand the black-buttered gun
Think of the collar my bonny, my beauty
Think of the hangman with hands so red
Pray, pray that he does his duty
I am that hangman, I said.

As I walked in Wine Street the silk snow was falling
And night in her Asian hair hung her comb,
Soft sang the yellow-faced seaman of home
The gong and the coconut-fiddle recalling
In the vermilion forest the dancer
Adorns with gold thorns his holy head
Will you not seize his hands, his fingers?
I am the dance, I said.

In Bread Street in summer we saw the boys hauling
The Yankee-white wheat on the bowl of the bay,
Between us the sword of the sun where we lay
Bloody with poppies, the warm sky our shawling
Sly sing the sirens on the coast of Calfornia
The oyster-fingered, the easy-eyed,
Trial their tune in the gin-wicked palaces
The song is mine, I cried.

Down by the dockside the green ships groaning
Ten-roped writhe on the ragged sea.
Blessed are they with the laurel tree
Now in the prow stands a saint for the stoning
Sound the salt bell on the mound of the ocean
Fish for prayer in the pool of the dead
When the storm strikes, speak the word on the waters
I am that word, I said.

Envoi

I am the Prince
I am the lowly
I am the damned
I am the holy.
My hands are ten knives,
I am the dove
Whose wings are murder.
My name is love.