“The nightingales are sobbing in the orchards of our mothers.”

“Song of the Master and Boatswain,” by W. H. Auden

(a selection from “The Sea and the Mirror”)

At Dirty Dick’s and Sloppy Joe’s
We drank our liquor straight,
Some went upstairs with Margery,
And some, alas, with Kate;
And two by two like cat and mouse
The homeless played at keeping house.

There Wealthy Meg, the Sailor’s Friend,
And Marion, cow-eyed,
Opened their arms to me but I
Refused to step inside;
I was not looking for a cage
In which to mope my old age.

The nightingales are sobbing in
The orchards of our mothers,
And hearts that we broke long ago
Have long been breaking others;
Tears are round, the sea is deep:
Roll them overboard and sleep.

 

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“Song of The Master and Boatswain” by W.H. Auden (read by Tom O’Bedlam)

I am linking here to the SpokenVerse Youtube Channel.  This poem is a favorite of mine.

“Tom O’Bedlam” is such a kick-ass name.  It sounds like a man who starts a lot of barfights.  Or some kind of … Irish agent provocateur.  I’d be thrilled if people nicknamed me “Eric O’Bedlam.”

 

“Song of the Master and Boatswain,” by W. H. Auden

“Song of the Master and Boatswain,” by W. H. Auden

(a selection from “The Sea and the Mirror”)

At Dirty Dick’s and Sloppy Joe’s
We drank our liquor straight,
Some went upstairs with Margery,
And some, alas, with Kate;
And two by two like cat and mouse
The homeless played at keeping house.

There Wealthy Meg, the Sailor’s Friend,
And Marion, cow-eyed,
Opened their arms to me but I
Refused to step inside;
I was not looking for a cage
In which to mope my old age.

The nightingales are sobbing in
The orchards of our mothers,
And hearts that we broke long ago
Have long been breaking others;
Tears are round, the sea is deep:
Roll them overboard and sleep.

AN APOLOGY.

To all those who I regaled on Monday with my newly memorized “Song of the Master and Boatswain,” by W.H. Auden, I apologize for being an idjit and incorrectly pronouncing its title as “Master and BOAT’S-Wayne.”

Sigh … the Internet, forever helping to edumucate me, informs me that, of course, it is pronounced “Song of the Master and BO-sin.”

See this link:  

That’s “Bo-sin.”  You know … like when Bo Duke commits adultery.

This writer gig would be so much easier if I could only master this … ENGLISHY thing.

OH!  Amanda!!  That reminds me!!  I apologize also for utterly destroying your car today!!  (As the mood tonight is one of penitence, I figured I’d work that one in there …)  We can work out a payment plan, right?  And … I can, like … pay you in verse, or something … right?   

See this link, Honey:

 

“The nightingales are sobbing in the orchards of our mothers.”

“Song of the Master and Boatswain,” by W. H. Auden

     (a selection from “The Sea and the Mirror”)

At Dirty Dick’s and Sloppy Joe’s
We drank our liquor straight,
Some went upstairs with Margery,
And some, alas, with Kate;
And two by two like cat and mouse
The homeless played at keeping house.

There Wealthy Meg, the Sailor’s Friend,
And Marion, cow-eyed,
Opened their arms to me but I
Refused to step inside;
I was not looking for a cage
In which to mope my old age.

The nightingales are sobbing in
The orchards of our mothers,
And hearts that we broke long ago
Have long been breaking others;
Tears are round, the sea is deep:
Roll them overboard and sleep.