The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley in ten volumes |
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THE OLD MAN OF THE SEA |
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 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
2125
THE OLD MAN OF THE SEA
I'm The Old Man of the Sea—I am!—
And this is my secret pride,
That I have a hundred shapes, all sham,
And a hundred names beside:
They have named me “Habit,” and “Way,” forsooth
“Capricious,” and “Fancy-free”;—
But to you, O Youth, I confess the truth,—
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
And this is my secret pride,
That I have a hundred shapes, all sham,
And a hundred names beside:
They have named me “Habit,” and “Way,” forsooth
“Capricious,” and “Fancy-free”;—
But to you, O Youth, I confess the truth,—
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
I'm the Old Man of the Sea, yo-ho!
So lift up a song with me,
As I sit on the throne of your shoulders, alone,
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
So lift up a song with me,
As I sit on the throne of your shoulders, alone,
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
Crowned with the crown of your noblest thought,
I'm The Old Man of the Sea:
I reign, rule, ruin, and palter not
In my pitiless tyranny;
You, my lad, are my gay Sindbad,
Frisking about, with me
High on the perch I have always had—
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
I'm The Old Man of the Sea:
I reign, rule, ruin, and palter not
In my pitiless tyranny;
You, my lad, are my gay Sindbad,
Frisking about, with me
High on the perch I have always had—
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
2126
I'm The Old Man of the Sea, yo-ho!
So lift up a song with me,
As I sit on the throne of your shoulders, alone,
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
So lift up a song with me,
As I sit on the throne of your shoulders, alone,
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
Tricked in the guise of your best intent,
I am your failures—all—
I am the victories you invent,
And your high resolves that fall:
I am the vow you are breaking now
As the wassail-bowl swings free
And the red guilt flushes your cheek and brow—
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
I am your failures—all—
I am the victories you invent,
And your high resolves that fall:
I am the vow you are breaking now
As the wassail-bowl swings free
And the red guilt flushes your cheek and brow—
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
I'm The Old Man of the Sea, yo-ho!
So lift up a song with me,
As I sit on the throne of your shoulders, alone,
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
So lift up a song with me,
As I sit on the throne of your shoulders, alone,
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
I am your false dreams of success
And your mythical future fame—
Your lifelong lies, and your soul's distress
And your slowly-dying shame:
I'm the chattering half of your latest laugh,
And your tongue's last perfidy—
Your doom, your tomb, and your epitaph ...
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
And your mythical future fame—
Your lifelong lies, and your soul's distress
And your slowly-dying shame:
I'm the chattering half of your latest laugh,
And your tongue's last perfidy—
Your doom, your tomb, and your epitaph ...
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
I'm The Old Man of the Sea, yo-ho!
So lift up a song with me,
As I sit on the throne of your shoulders, alone,
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
So lift up a song with me,
As I sit on the throne of your shoulders, alone,
I'm The Old Man of the Sea.
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |