You say well -meant again,
Or laid in even deeper than
Oriental oils and tea brought
As we wait for my lot to cycle
I say my wife has just given me a son
is that all that you've done?
She wears bougainvillea blossoms,
you pluck them from her hair
and toss them in the tide.
And her sighs catch on your shoulder
Her moonlit eyes grow bold and
And I say, how could you stand
to where the Southern Cross
rides high upon your shoulder
each day you tend this lock
while your blood grows colder
But each anchor chain's a fetter
With it you are tethered to the foam
But I wouldn't trade your life
Sure, I'm stuck here on the seaway
to see the miles you've made
And you laugh at hearts you've riven
But which of these have given
You, your tropic maids or me,
to where the Southern Cross
rides high upon your shoulder.
Each day you tend this lock.
While your blood grows colder
But each anchor chain's a fetter
But I wouldn't trade your life