My Bonny Lies.

The sea she’s a charmer, she’s cocking a finger
She coos of smooth sailing, still waters and foam
The shore sighs of sands where your feet shouldn’t linger
And the trees in their breezes sing softly of home

Is your true love still calling young simple, young sailor?
Does she even remember her promises made?
Has she ever replied to the letters you’ve mailed her?
Does the sandpiper’s call tell your heart that she’s strayed?

The sea she’s a devil, her lash plunges shoreward
She’s screaming of waves breaking hard on the reef
The shore shifts uneasy and flees in the shallows
And trees bend in gales blowing bitter as grief

If you went home tomorrow
Would you yearn for the tropics
Would you dream of the jungles
Would you breathe, could you see?

If you went home tomorrow
Would you settle for sameness
The bleakness of rooftops
The streets running circles
The drab and the dingy
The drawn, hungry faces
The somnolent marching
The drone of the factories
The eating and sleeping
And working in cycles
Unending ‘til you’ve
Lost your winding
Then, ashes?