Flying Dutchman

Old lady with a barrow; life near ending
Standing by the harbour wall; warm wishes sending
Children on the cold sea swell
Not fishers of men
Gone to chase away the last herring:
Come empty home again.
So come all you lovers of the good life
On your supermarket run
Set a sail of your own devising
And be there when the Dutchman comes.
Wee girl in a straw hat: from far east warring
Sad cargo of an old ship: young bodies whoring
Slow ocean hobo ports closed to her crew
No hope of immigration keep on passing through.
So come all you lovers of the good life
Your children playing in the sun
Set a sympathetic flag a-flying
And be there when the Dutchman comes.
Death grinning like a scarecrow Flying Dutchman
Seagull pilots flown from nowhere try and touch one
As she slips in on the full tide
And the harbour-master yells
All hands vanished with the captain
No one left, the tale to tell.
So come all you lovers of the good life
Look around you, can you see?
Staring ghostly in the mirror
It’s the Dutchman you will be
Floating slowly out to sea
In a misty misery.