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about
In the early 20th century a British poet named Cecily Fox Smith, publishing as C. Fox Smith, wrote a volume of poems in the style of sea songs but with far more depth and nuance than any shanty. I first set this one to music around 2007. I made this rough recording in our new home in Maine. It's a haunting account of a prostitute visited by the ghost of a drowned lover. I play it in open C, on my 1994 large-bodied Lowden guitar. Video is here: bit.ly/thereturnsong More on my music: bit.ly/revkinsmusic
lyrics
THE RETURN - lyrics C. Fox Smith / music A. Revkin
‘When did your ship dock, Jim Dale, That you come so late this night?
Long since I heard the clocks strike three, And it will soon be light.’
‘How did you get in, Jim Dale, With the doors all locked and barred?
I never heard you knock nor call, Nor the dog bark in the yard.’
‘They told me you were dead and drowned In the South Seas cold and far,
The tale was told at Paddy’s Pub and at Old Clancy’s Bar.’
‘Why do you look at me so sad, So strange and shake your head?
They told me you were dead and drowned, I cried my poor eyes red . . .
But it's hard for a girl to walk alone For one who’s dead.’
Short instrumental interlude and la-la-la’s..
He pointed to her faithless name on his bare chest tattooed,
And ever the dripping sea in streams ran from him where he stood.
One moment, and she saw him clear - the next, and he was gone,
Like a fitful moonbeam through the room... passing - but no moon shone.
She heard no lifting of the latch, No footstep on the stair,
No board creaked in that still house to show he had been there.
And up the street and down the street, not a man could she behold,
except the cloaked policeman on the beat ..stamping his feet in the cold.
And it’s hard for a girl to walk alone.. You know it’s hard for a girl to walk alone.
I said it’s hard for a girl to walk alone...for one who’s dead…
long instrumental interlude with B part, and la-la-la’s..
original additional verse:
She saw the rain come slanting down, The sheds, the high dock wall,
The masts and funnels of the ships, The derricks gaunt and tall.
And through the darkness and the rain The light came creeping grey,
And all along the dreary street The gas-lamps paled to day.
Best known for his environmental journalism and books, Andy Revkin has long been a performing songwriter (here seen on the Clearwater; photo by Susan English).
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