Pirates Lament

By Aneirin Menelaos


I’ve walked th' docks o' Eridanus long,
Where th' gulls cry out like a sailor’s song,
But no deck calls an' no mast sways
Just empty wind an' landbound days.

I know th' creak o' a timbered hull,
The taste o' brine an' a hold near full,
But here I stan' with boots in san',
A pirate’s heart in a farmer’s lan'.

Oh th' seas still call, though I cannot go,
Through storm-torn night or a sunset’s glow,
No sail to raise, no helm to command
Just salt in my soul an' dust in my hand.
Aye, th' tide runs free where I cannot be
And that is th' pirate’s lament in me.

I’ve sung o' storms an' a cannon’s cry,
Of ships that raced ‘neath a blackened sky,
But songs are poor for a restless vein
That aches for wind an' th' open main.

No crew to curse, no rigging to climb,
No bottle passed in th' watchman’s time,
Just quiet roads an' gentle air—
No danger found, no plunder fair.

Oh th' seas still call, though I cannot go,
Through foam-white rage or th' doldrum’s slow,
No stars to steer, no waves to command—
Just maps in my mind an' dust in my hand.
Aye, th' tide runs free where I cannot be—
And that is th' pirate’s lament in me.

So here I’ll sing in th' inland light,
Of ghosting sails in th' edge o' night,
Till fate or folly, coin or chance,
Returns me to that wild expanse.

Oh th' seas still call—an' one day I’ll go,
Past th' harbor’s reach an' th' lantern’s glow,
With wind at my back an' fate in my hand—
No longer bound to this quiet land.
Till then I dream o' th' endless sea—
And bear this pirate’s lament in me.