Lock-Keeper

Stan Rogers


You say, "Well-met again, Lock-keeper!
We're laden even deeper than the time before,
Oriental oils and tea brought down from Singapore."
As we wait for my lock to cycle 
I say, "My wife has given me a son."
"A son!" you cry, "Is that all that you've done?"

She wears bougainvilla blossoms.
You pluck 'em from her hair and toss 'em in the tide,
Sweep her in your arms and carry her inside.
Her sighs catch on your shoulder;
Her moonlit eyes grow bold and wiser through her tears
And I say, "How could you stand to leave her for a year?"

Chorus:
Then come with me you say, 
to where the Southern Cross rides high upon your shoulder
Come with me, you cry,
Each day you tend this Lock you’re one day older,
While your blood grows colder
But that anchor chain’s a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam
And I wouldn’t tade your life for one houR at home

Sure I’m stuck here on the Seaway,
While you compensate for leeway through the trades
And you shoot the stars to see the miles you’ve made
And you laugh at hearts you’ve riven,
But which of these have given us more love or life
You your tropic maids or me my wife.

Chorus