By the storm-torn shoreline a woman is standing

The spray strung like jewels in her hair

And the sea tore the rocks near the desolate landing

as though it had known she stood there.



Chorus:

For she had come down to condemn that wild ocean

for the murderous loss of her man,

His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning

And it's feared it's gone down with all hands.



Oh and white were the wave-caps

And wild was their parting

So fierce is the warring of love,

But she prayed to the gods

Both of men and of sailors

Not to cast their cruel nets o'er her love.



There's a school on the hill

Where the songs of dead fathers

Are led toward tempests and gales,

Where their God-given wings

Are clipped close to their bodies,

And their eyes are bound-'round with ships' sails.



What force leads a man

To a life filled with danger

High on seas or a mile underground?

It's when need is his master

And poverty's no stranger,

And there's no other work to be found.