Mariner Blues - Tír na nÓg

You would stand with the early sun

On the rope that held my boat

And the wheeling seagull began to wonder

Why I’d missed the tide

You sometimes came to brown your arms

And you sat upon the stern

And you thought how fine the valleys were

In between each crest

And you might say, yes you might say

The mariner is glad

The gull flew down one morning

As I was setting out to sea

And told me in his language

You’d bid your goodbyes to me

I climbed up to your house

And tapped upon your windows

But all I saw within your rooms

Were paintings of the sea

And warm pullovers on the floor

And boots with sandy heels

And drawings that you made of me

While sailing out to sea

And you might say, yes you might say

The mariner is sad