Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Ryme IV

From the sounds of it...the surf has been decent. I've had to succumb to the cruelties of a racking cough and aching body...just in time for the sun...and the warmth...and the surf...
Ryme of the Ancyent Watyrman


You're a mystery, my ancyent Watyrman!
"And I fear your charg'n ways;
"Float'n in eerye comfort and calm
"Ryde'n 'pon massyve sea waves.

"Yea I do fear thee ayn thy watery world
"For it grasps ayn it pulls me deep down--
Fear ne, fear ne, myne ocean guest!
By my oath I shan't let thee drown.

Alone, we're alone, all all alone
All alone 'pon a sea wythout waves;
How I wish't that the Chryst'd take pity on us
And send sooth'n sea swells our way.

They many a men are boastful ayn proud
And now ever asham'd they do lye!
And ayl ever respect the sea's natural way
As it lyve's on--and thus so do I.

I sat ayn look'd 'pon the inky black Sea,
Strayn'n myne poor eyes gains't the nyght;
I look'd deep down to the watery black depths
For 'tis there that all true power lyes.

I gaz'd to yon Heavens, I try'd then to pray;
But my prayers they'd ne ever been met,
I wysh't but one thing, and one thyng dyd I wish
Oh I pray'd that that one thyng I'd get.

I then clos'd my eyelyds and kept them tyght shut,
Tyll the orbs lyke deep sea pulse dyd pound;
In my mynd's eye, angry sea and bryght sky
Weygh'd heavily a cruel load on my soul,
Then I dream't of gone ryders gone down.

Cold waters dyd dryp'd off from myne brow,
There'd ne be age'n, ne slow'n for me;
I look'd out there at, and bobbed there besyde
The waves that pass'd all thro' the sea.

A local's foul curse drags kooks deep unto Hell
All except for true spyryts most hygh:
But O! Far more horryble even than that
Is the curse of the seventh wave's eye!
Seven days, seven nyghts I sat on the sea,
And when it came not I swore that I'd dye.

Then the horn'd Moon dyd ryse hygh in the sky
She travel'd where none dare'd abyde:
Softly she pull'd and the sea it rose up
And I lay on my board and I cry'd--

Her beams they abeckon'd to the wyld ocean mayn
Her fyngers lyke a God's hand wydespread;
Before me a huge shadow lay'd,
Becalm'd water all stryp'd away
Massyve swell replaced anger wyth dread.

Down 'neath the shadow of the royl'n wave
I watch'd watery tendryls snake upward:
They mov'd in tracks of pure shyn'n whyte;
The wave then rear'd up, ayn their phosphoury lyght
Gave guydance lyke a wave search'n shepherd.

As I stood deep wyth'n the sphere of the tube
I admir'd my rubber'd attyre:
Glow'n glossy green and sleek velvet black
I coyl'd and crouch'd; ayn chose my true track
And explod'd in a flash of soul fyre.

O the stoke dyd I feel! No toungue could declare:
Prydeful pleasure near gusht from my heart,
I look'd to yon lyght ayn thank'd my good stars!
For ocean lords had took pyty on me,
For thys tuberyde was my long'st by far.

Thus my prayers they came to be answer'd;
As I burs't from the barrel agayn free'd
I sped cross't the face and let my gun trace
Tracks out the back and then back to the sea.