A drunken boat once sailed to me,
Where it did meet a feathered goose.
In exchange for wine did she lay,
One golden egg for love each day.
Love did weigh with time and waste,
To allay regret of time’s slow pace,
Countrymen versed with daggers drawn
Then slit her bloody throat.

Laid up and down a sinking sea,
Shipwrecked man tomorrow may be.
Where no crow nests, save a fool,
Who puts the waves high above –
And buries the stars down below.
Only holy hands will hold him,
Like an angel to be, a whisper,
Boarded up for the season of storms,
Wrapped under the Christmas tree,
Awaiting love’s triumph and return,
To hold what cruel hands drop,
But not now, never now, no.
Now the tide is lifting all boats –
Into the velveteen sky to dream,
Of the way back to Mary’s meridian.