[The Island, the Omen, and the Maid]

And the bottle she held in her hands
Was the poison from which I had drunk.
Though my spyglass had seen through her plans,
Lonely hearts may be swindled by love.
And the bitterest fate of a man of the sea
Is to go down alive with the chain and the key
To the lock just out of his reach
As old Davy Jones comes up to lay him to sleep.

'Twas the first of December, and sailing the blue
On that cold winter's morn we did find,
All wrecked up on the coast of a snow covered island,
A ship with no sailors in sight.
I, the Captain, gave orders to lower the boats.
We weighed anchor and made for the shore.
And then climbing up through a sharp break in the hull
We met something you've not seen before.

There hung from the rigging a man
All bloodied, beaten, and bruised,
And dangling there the lad rasped,
"Beware you ignorant fools!
Do you not know the look
And the sign of a ship
When she's taken surprised
And asunder she's torn
Mast, rudder, and plank
As though caught by foul winds
In a tempest from hell, the most fearsome of storms.
But then up from beneath comes a reeking black stench
As a thousand dead rotting old sailors it seems
And before you can jump ship and make for safe land
You are lost, for that smell is the breath of the beast!"

"My captain, my captain, what now shall we do,
For this man who has spoken is dead."

'Twas the third first of June at the port of Tortuga,
The plunder divided and spent,
When awaking at noon to the sound of the bell
I looked out the east window and said,
"By the green of the sky and the red of the sea
There's an evil afoot at the bay!"
And before I could rouse the first mate or the crew,
The door opened and in came the maid.
"We are under attack, come with me," the girl said
As she rushed down the stairs to the den,
And descending again to the cellar below,
Past a trap to a tunnel we went.
From the wall she withdrew an old lamp;
With an ember my pipe gave the light.
Under streets between walls hewn of crumbling stone
We made haste and stole into the night.

On the decks of my ship she held fast to my hand
And gave one final kiss before making for land,
And then safely ashore she turned back and she said,
"I am sorry, but this is the end of the end."

The anchor, the mast, and the fuse that was lit
By the crew, once my friends, turned and left me for dead.
The sail that was caught, oh, the wind that was swift,
By the sea, by my blood, as I sank, oh my dread!
For the bitterest fate of a man of the sea
Is to go down alive with the chain and the key
To the lock just out of his reach,
As old Davy Jones comes up to lay him to sleep.

On the morn that I woke and found all the crew gone
And I heard that my captain was dead,
I took what plunder I had to my name
And my heart like a stone I fled.

On the key I found a ship outward bound
And the captain saw me and he said,
"Come aboard and share in whatever plunder we
Find in equal measure my friend."

[The Beast, the Sea Dog, and the Wench]

'Twas the thirteenth of March, we were riding the coast
After unearthing our treasure trove.
Only one journey more before we would disband,
So we made our heading for the cove.

'Twas smooth sailing at first, joy lifted my heart
As the sea breeze played with my hair.
Then a storm from the east came upon us
As sure and as swift as despair.

And then up from the deep came a reeking black stench
As a thousand dead rotting old sailors it seemed,
And before we could jump ship and make for safe land
We looked into the face of the beast!

When the stench that had risen overcame our hearts
I looked on the creature with dread,
At the claws that had torn, and the beaks that had fed,
And the tentacles that dragged down the dead!

And the call of a horn arose from the din
As the captain shouted from the helm of the ship,
"To arms! Put fire and sword to the foe!
To fight is our only hope!"

We rallied and cast all our lanterns and powder
And torches into the black.
We cut at the tentacles, shattered the beaks
As it battered and beat at the flames.

The beast begged, and he bribed, and he writhed all about
While the captain's cold steel cut his heart out.
With a dying breath he shouted aloud,

"And she takes the souls of the finest of men
For the ship that will never set sail!"

As I sat on the deck in cold disbelief
With a mug of ale in my hand,
I thought back to a cold winter's morning
And a bloodied, beaten, hanged man.

"Do you not know the look and the sign of a ship?"
I said to the man next to me, and he said,
"Every sailor and scalawag knows of the beast
By the green of the sky and the red of the sea.

This is the work of old Davy Jones -
He'd have dragged us down to his courts."

The old sea dog said, "There is a wench that I know
At the tavern down by the bay.
Her hair is the red of the flames of the damned,
And her honey-tongue dripping with lies.
Her skin is as pale as silk covered bones,
And her eyes are the green of the sea
When it storms, and it crashes, and treacherously pulls you down
Under to lay you to sleep."

Then suddenly I saw a sailor
Walk up to me and he said,

"My captain, my captain, what now shall we do?
For our captain slayed the beast, and is dead."

'Twas the twenty and seventh of May when we came
To the port of Tortuga once more.
We divided our plunder and I went in search
Of a woman that I'd met before.

I found her in the brothels down by the bay
Entertaining men for her pay.
I gave the lass in the parlor a coin,
And asked to have her sent my way.

She appeared soft as a shadow,
And lovely as a flame.
She beckoned me with a finger,
And my soul filled with lust as I came.

I followed her to her chamber,
And watched her as she disrobed.
Then she turned to me and she offered
A cask inlaid with gold.

"Drink with me and come to bed," she sang
"Where the gulls cry soft as they fly overhead,
And the ocean tastes as sweet as the cane;
Every ship that sets sail is yours to command."

I smiled at her as I drank
From the cask that sealed my doom.
Then she leaned in close and she whispered,
"Beware, you ignorant fool!

Greet my dear husband when you descend
To the ship that will never set sail!"

And the bottle she held in her hands as I fled
Was the poison from which I had drunk, and I said,
"Though my spyglass had seen through your plans to the end,
Still the loneliest heart can be swindled and bled."
Toward the bottom I sank as she watched with a grin,
And the chain 'round my neck was an anchor akin
To my love. In my innocence I'd been cut quick,
And betrayed to this Hell of eternal regret.

'Twas the hour of dusk and, along with the sun,
I descended into the depths,
With the lust and the sin that clung to my skin
Like chains that dragged down my flesh.

I was greeted at first by a dead man,
The flesh eaten away from his skull.
"Welcome to the grave, you're a corpse among many.
I'll take you to see Davy Jones."

[The Devil, the Dead, and the Last Dawn]

'Twas eleven long months on the floor of the sea,
My hands worked down to the bone.
The lash had been cruel to my back and my breast.
Day and night I had toiled alone.

In the dark I heard clearly the sound of the bell
Calling all to come swift to the court.
The Master of Hell had some cruel word to share;
For relief, I held out no hope.

All the dead had gathered before him,
The Lord of the sorrowful damned.
Then I saw at his side my first mate and I cried,
"Sir I beg you—do not hurt this man!"

I was forced to the front of the murmuring crowd,
And then forced to my knees at his feet.
I saw fear in the eyes of my loyal first mate,
And then Davy Jones started to speak.

"This isn't the last you've seen of me,
Nor is it the first,
But if you're not careful what you say,
Oh, it may be the worst.

This man who stands here before you—
Beloved of yours is he not?
Trustworthy friend right down to the end,
He has come to save you from rot.

I'll be plain with you, good captain—
I am in need of your crew.
You've denied me your service eleven months now
As though you had something to prove.

Withhold your soul this day
And my wrath will be poured out in full
Upon you and your crew, but especially so
Upon this man who came to save you."

As he picked me up by the collar,
And stared with those dead steely eyes,
I pulled out my heart and handed it forth.
Then, I said in reply,

"I have come to serve
On your ship, good sir,
Full of honor
And full of pride."

'Twas the hour of midnight and I swabbed the deck
Of the ship that would never set sail.
'Twas an old mangled shipwreck, broken in two,
Without mast, without rigging, or rail.

For thirty long years we had toiled,
Preparing our ship to depart,
So that old Davy Jones could escape his cold home
And return to his bride and his heart.

One day the captain pulled me aside,
"The repairs are nearly all made.
Then the anchor goes up, and the sails will be raised,
And old Davy Jones will be away."

"My captain, my captain, what now can we do?
If we sail the whole world is doomed!"

"Never fear, my good man! For in secret I've planned
One last plot to get us safely home,
And to keep Davy Jones far away from dry land.
Come with me—I’ll explain all below."

'Twas the hour of twilight when all was made ready,
One hour before the dawn,
When old Davy Jones boarded the ship
And made orders to leave the dock.

"Davy Jones I have done as you said,
Every order fulfilled without fail.
But now we're going home, and we're leaving you here—
It is you who shall never set sail!"

Well he threw me down hard, and he drew out his sword,
Scoffing at me as he scorned,
"This is my ship! What gives you the right
To decide who may now come aboard?"

"For my crew, it was greed 'twas their downfall,
And my first mate succumbed to his lust,
But of all of these damned the first innocent man
Is the one that you came to trust."

"Good captain, your treachery shocks me!
How innocent you seemed at first.
I am taken aback by your surprising lack
Of compassion—you see, I am cursed.

I am trapped here in this rotting body,
And trapped here awaiting the day
When I see my true love, and live free up above,
And let go of all of my hate."

For a moment I almost believed him,
A shade of regret in his eyes,
But the captain held tight to his wit and his sense
And responded with this stern reply:

"Davy, your words are but poison,
The kind that send men to the grave.
By your deeds you are shown to be heartless and cold.
We depart without you and your hate!"

His sword clattered loud as it fell to the deck,
And Davy Jones took a step back,
Then my captain took up the cold weapon, and shouting,
Leapt forth to press the attack.

That day Davy Jones was defeated for good
And we pushed him down off of the plank.
And the captain yelled forth, "Ho, anchors away!"
And a rippling black sail we did finally raise.

And the bottle she held in her hands
Was the poison from which I had drunk.
But my spyglass had seen through her plans;
We held fast and refused to give up.
And the happiest fate of a man of the sea
Is to come back to life from the dark of the deep
To the sun, for one final journey,
Making his heading for fiddler's green.