Lock-Keeper

You say, "Well-met again, Lock-keeper! We're laden even deeper that 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?" "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 runs colder." But that anchor chain's a fetter And with it you are tethered to the foam And I wouldn't trade your life for one hour of 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 has given us more love of life You, your tropic maids, or me, my wife "Then come with me" you say, "to where the Southern Cross Rides high upon your shoulder." "Ah come with me!" you cry "Each day you tend this lock, you're one day older While your blood runs colder." But that anchor chain's a fetter And with it you are tethered to the foam And I wouldn't trade your life for one hour of home Ah your anchor chain's a fetter And with it you are tethered to the foam And I wouldn't trade your whole life for just one hour of home