Fisher King’s Lament
by Jackson smith
Down in the land where the pine trees stand,
There by the writhing sea —
I met a stooped old fisherman
In a field of old debris.
‘Ay me!’ cried he. ‘Why, o’er the years
I’d made a handsome prize,
But I squandered me gold on a pair ‘a cold
An’ cruel bewitching eyes.
‘Oh! eyes what tremble, eyes what snare,
What snatch ye all alone —
Then jaws what gnash an’ seethe an’ tear
An’ strip ye down ta bone!
‘I lost me loot, me hat and boots,
Me leg, me ship, me crew;
But kept me rod, an’ kept me life
An’ wits abou’ me, too…’
He heaved a sigh, and in his eye
There shone a sickly gleam.
‘Ye fancy me a fool, ye dog —
I’ve wisened to yer scheme;
‘Ye’d rob what pittance I have left,
Yer eyes betray the truth —
An’ I won’t stand to be unmanned
By some insipid youth!
‘Now come an’ stand an’ face yer fate,
An’ prove yerself a man!’
He raised a broken fishing-pole —
I took the hint and ran.
Oh! eyes that seek and snatch and snare
Shall burn eternally —
There in the land where the pine trees stand,
Down by the sounding sea.