WIDOW WITH A SORROW

Dear Wind that shakes the barley free
Blow home my true love's ship to me,
fill the sail
I a-weary wait upon the shore.
Forsake her not in times of storm
Protect her oaken beams from harm,
fill her sail
I a-weary wait upon the shore.
Whither he be in Africa or deep asleep in India,
fill his dreams
I a-weary wait upon the shore.
Dear snow white gulls upon the wave
I, like you, am lamenting, for my love.
I a-weary cry upon the shore.
And in my chariot of sleep,
I ride the vast and dreamy deep deep sea.
I awake a-weary on the shore.
Seven years and Seven days,
no man has seen my woman ways, dear God.
I a-weary cry upon the shore.
Along the shingled beach I go
The wind about me as I make my way
to my weary dream upon my bed.
Dear Wind that shakes the barley free
Blow home my true love's ship to me,
fill the sail.
I a-weary wait upon the shore.

Donovan