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lyrics

Chapter 17: The Ramadan

No suicides here,
And no smoking in the parlor, dear.
He's locked himself inside --
I'm shut out 'til the rising tide.

The keyhole affords
No better view than half the floor --
He's nowhere to be seen
Beyond his weapon in the corner leaning.

Queequeg prays (sit alone in the cold for your Ramadan
With Yojo on your head) to the God who gives him voice;
It's the choice of every man.

Queequeg prays (sit alone in the cold for your Ramadan
With Yojo on your head); oh, who am I to say
That my Christian faith's the only way.

I burst into the room --
Shuttered like a bud to bloom,
My best friend remains
In the piety of pagan names.

I tell him when he wakes,
Religion needn't cause him pain.
He smiles back at me,
In friendship, never condescension.

Queequeg prays (sit alone in the cold for your Ramadan
With Yojo on your head) to the God who gives him voice;
It's the choice of every man.

Queequeg prays (sit alone in the cold for your Ramadan
With Yojo on your head); oh, who am I to say
That my Christian faith's the only way.

Queequeg prays.

(c) and (p) 2008 Patrick Shea

credits

from The Best of Call Me Ishmael, released March 7, 2012

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about

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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