Wednesday, February 01, 2012

Broadsword and the Beast (from Twenty Thousand Fathoms)

Bring me a lighthouse and mournful weather
Bring me an iceberg melting in the sun
The sun of the atom, freeing a monster
An ancient monster, lost and alone.

Bring me my broadsword (that's the brig's call-sign)
Bring me my fog-horn that cries like a gull.
So lost and so lonely, so prelapsarian
That lost monsters must hear it and heed its pull.

Lure the beast to the lighthouse
It's my cliff-top dwelling, when the soldiers of Unit
Prepare it's cage. (With comfy pillows)
So that beneath the billows, it will feel at home.

For the monster just needs friends,
Like Sergeant Benton, or Corporal Osgood, or even the Brig.
They have the experience, and the understanding
To look after the creatures be they small or big.

Bring me a lighthouse and mournful weather
Bring me an iceberg melting in the sun
The sun of the atom, freeing a monster
An ancient monster, that at last comes home.

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