Circa 1985?

The Ballad Of My Fair Maiden

(Found among some manuscripts in a Boston custom-house)

When the ship comes back over the ocean,

Bringing gifts and stories of old,

Children and men will come runing

To see if the maiden wears rings of gold.

-----------------------

When the sun rises on a summer morn,

Bathing us with its warming rays,

The townspeople will come running

To see if the maiden finally changed.

-------------------------

And as the crowds swell around her,

Covering her with false kisses,

There is a strange man staying back,

Not ready to count his wishes.

-------------------------

While she smiles and as she appreciates,

Her eyes turn to the dark background,

Where the man turns to walk away

As she takes praise from those crowded around.

---------------------------

Oh, maiden fair, maiden divine --

Press to my lips like a fine aged wine.

Oh, maiden fair, maiden divine --

Did you come back for good this time?

--------------------------

As the sun passed over the town many times,

And the men went back to their toils,

She took to walking the backstreets

Looking for the face she had once recoiled.

--------------------------

Since the outskirts were always shrouded in black,

And the town always gave security,

She was quick to turn around, head back,

Never getting to the edge of woods where I'd be.

-------------------------

For months and months she played out this scene,

Always reaching the woods at dusk.

Afraid to penetrate the darkness,

There never was a chance at whatever there was.

------------------------

By all rights, he could have walked into town,

And taken the long-protected white hand,

Lead it through the mysterious woods

To the house that opened her doors for the woman.

----------------------------------

Oh, maiden fair, maiden divine --

Press to my lips like a fine aged wine.

Oh, maiden fair, maiden divine --

Did you come back for good this time?

---------------------------------

Still, the ballads and the stories of this sad land

Are made of mistakes and the "should have dones."

In a tradition as rich as this one,

There really was not other course they saw to run.

--------------------------------

In a year long past the day the ship came to port,

The lady, wrinkled and all withered, died,

Children running around her, screaming loud,

But through the trees an old man heard "goodbye."

-------------------------------------

Oh, maiden fair, maiden divine --

Press to my lips like a fine aged wine.

Oh, maiden fair, maiden divine --

Did you come back for good this time?