Row, my brother, row with the wind,
The stars above no longer sing.
The night is cold, the waves are wide
But none return on the turning tide.
Enough, enough
Oh ocean, you beast, you mouth of graves,
You salt-veined god with no mercy to save.
You took my son, his eyes still bright,
You dragged him down in the black of night.
You took my girl, just twenty-two,
He wore her ring, and loved her true.
My heart, my helm, my morning light,
You tore her breath with storm and spite.
The winds were foul, and the work was hard,
But I still begged beneath your stars.
I begged you then. I curse you now.
I spit at your depths, and I don't bow.
Four months (and the fifth is here),
I row through salt, through ghosts, through fear.
The voyage is done, and the winds don’t blow
But I cannot leave her down below.
Bring them back
Bring them, bring them,
Give them back
Sailing, singing, silent now.
Aren’t you afraid of God, oh ocean?
Or did He send you, oh ocean?