The Mariner's Revenge Song - The Decemberists: текст песни id 6692050
We are two mariners
Our ship’s sole survivors
In this belly of a whale
It’s ribs are ceiling beams
It’s guts are carpeting
I guess we have some time to kill
You may not remember me I was a child of three
And you, a lad of eighteen
But, I remember you
And I will relate to you
How our histories interweave
At the time you were
A rake and a roustabout
Spending all your money
On the whores and hounds
(oh, oh)
You had a charming air
All cheap and debonair
My widowed mother found so sweet
And so she took you in Her sheets still warm with him
Now filled with filth and foul disease
As time wore on you proved
A debt-ridden drunken mess
Leaving my mother
A poor consumptive wretch
(oh, oh)
And then you disappeared
Your gambling arrears
The only thing you left behind
And then the magistrate
Reclaimed our small estate
And my poor mother lost her mind
Then, one day in spring
My dear sweet mother died
But, before she did
I took her hand as she, dying, cried:
(oh, oh)
«Find him, find him
Tie him to a pole and break
His fingers to splinters
Drag him to a hole until he Wakes up naked
Clawing at the ceiling
Of his grave»
It took me fifteen years
To swallow all my tears
Among the urchins in the street
Until a priory
Took pity and hired me To keep their vestry nice and neat
But, never once in the employ
Of these holy men
Did I ever, once turn my mind
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