So Tusky was owed a poem by me from a very, very long time ago which I have shamefully been failing to do for him. His chosen theme was sea travel/exploration on the sea, and I can finally present the results of my endeavours:
The Sailor and the Nightingale
A sailor, a sailor,
G
To ship went one day,
D
To see what he’d find there
G C
In lands far away,
C D
And on the shore his true love said,
C G
Return to me and then we’ll wed -
G D
“Don’t bring me back a purse of gold,
G D
Don’t bring me back a ribbon blue,
Am G
But bring me the song of a nightingale,
C G D
For she’s the bird that sings most true.”
C D Em
A sailor, a sailor,
To ship went one day,
To see what he’d find there
In lands far away,
And on the shore his true love said,
Return to me and then we’ll wed -
“Don’t bring me back a purse of gold,
Don’t bring me back a ribbon blue,
But bring me the song of a nightingale,
For she’s the bird that sings most true.”
A sailor, a sailor,
The tropics he sailed,
Through lulls and through storm winds,
Through calms and through gales,
Where parrots crowed through every task,
But not the bird his love had asked,
“Don’t bring me back a silver chest,
Don’t bring me back a feather dress,
But bring me the song of a nightingale,
For she’s the bird who sings the best.”
A sailor, a sailor,
He sailed off to Spain,
Where fair Spanish ladies,
His fellows soon gained,
But still he searched the ports and trees,
For songs ne’er heard upon the breeze
“Don’t bring me back the golden sun,
Don’t bring me back the robes of kings,
But bring me the song of a nightingale,
Be sure you find her where she sings”
A sailor, a sailor,
At last he sailed home,
On cogs and on galleons,
The world he had roamed,
And on the shore his love stood there,
But he’d found naught, to his despair
“But dear, what I wanted all along,
Was nothing found across the sea;
For it’s here that you hear the nightingale,
So I knew you’d come back to me.”
Salt HorsesWild manes fly from the breaking foam,
Am C G
Salt mares carry us far from home,
Am Em G Am
Our captain was a squire’s boy,
C Am
With horse and hunt he idled,
C G
Now aboard a ship he rides,
Em Am
The horse that cannot be bridled;
Am E
Wild manes fly from the breaking foam,
Salt mares carry us far from home.Our captain was a squire’s boy,
With horse and hunt he idled,
Now aboard a ship he rides,
The horse that cannot be bridled;
Wild manes fly from the breaking foam,
Salt mares carry us far from home.The first mate was a merchant,
His horse took wares to town,
But the horse whose way is the ocean bay,
Will throw you off to drown;
Wild manes fly from the breaking foam,
Salt mares carry us far from home.The priest he rode a donkey,
As stubborn as could be,
But none’s so stubborn, strong and rash,
As riding waves at sea;
Wild manes fly from the breaking foam,
Salt mares carry us far from home.The cook he was a blacksmith,
A thousand horses shod,
But none with kicks so loud as this,
The steed of an angry god;
Wild manes fly from the breaking foam,
Salt mares carry us far from home.And all the rest we pull the ropes,
Unfurl the sails and heave,
For the stallion’s roar so far from shore,
Will cause our loves to grieve…
Wild manes fly from the breaking foam,
Salt mares carry us far from home.