Procol Harum

Beyond
the Pale

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'Too Many Poets'

A Whalers Lament (Davy Jones)


 

 

Key to authors' pseudonyms

Night fell on the bark, her fourteenth voyage
The lapping waves had lulled us to sleep
Unknown to us, the storm clouds had gathered
Our port of call behind us, we headed to sea

A strange snap awoke us, from somewhere above
Screams could be heard, nothing but curse
Shadows with lanterns passed by in confusion
Our voyage had taken a turn for the worse

We climbed from our bunks and stumbled blindly
Groping to find our way in the dark
The rocks scraped the belly of the rugged old whaler
She groaned in pain as her hull ripped apart

The wind it came hellbent with fury
The mast splintered silently as if no one had heard
A lantern flickered, but was quickly extinguised
As wave after wave washed the owner away

The lifeboats on deck were clearly out-numbered
Desperation reigned in those short minutes alone
Full, one went over and disappeared in the darkness
One minute it was there, the next it was gone

The roll of the thunder and the waves were as one
Desperate prayers were offered while grasping the rails
The snap of the ropes and broken halyards
Kept time with the ripped and shredded sails

The deck lurched to starboard, no sound could be heard
The groaning old hull had finally given way
The last sound they heard as the waves rolled over
Was the salty grave closing as it swallowed its prey


Procol Harum concerts in 2001: index page

Manchester: Palers' Convention

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