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lyrics

Chapter 21: Going Aboard

The tongues of an ebbing tide
Lapping against the boat,
And the light of the coming dawn glowing far and wide.

The silence that stills a heart,
And the fog that begins to lift
With the shadows that stow away under the boards.

We're the undertakers of the coming tragedy!
Turning our backs, the prophet makes us family.

We're the undertakers of the coming tragedy!
Fatten us up for footstools, come the coming feat.

Warnings upon the breeze,
As it teases against the sails
As a portent of future speed bracing the yard.

Nowhere a soul to stir.
The cabin is locked up tight.
Smoking with sleeping rigors deep in the bow.

We're the undertakers of the coming tragedy!
Turning our backs, the prophet makes us family.

We're the undertakers of the coming tragedy!
Fatten us up for footstools, come the coming feat.

© and ℗ 2009 Patrick Shea

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from Call Me Ishmael; volume 2, released April 1, 2009

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Patrick Shea Brooklyn, New York

Patrick is a nerd, a book lover, a math afficianado, an Ishmael, and an Ahab. He lives in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn with his wife and two daughters. He grew up in Portland, OR; and has also lived in Grinnell, IA (for college); and Austin, TX.

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