Jack Dublin was a tinker man
Who one day went to sea.
He'd made his hobby greater than
Responsibility.

He kissed his wife and screaming child
And put out far from home,
To battle waters of the wild
His heart was set to roam.

He'd fish, he thought, upon the sea
Without a care or kin
And live his life contentedly
On fish he would bring in.

So Dublin spent each lazy hour
Of every lazy day
Just basking in his new-found power
To do things his own way.

And glad he was for quiet nights
With book and pipe in hand,
Where water kissed the starry lights
So far away from land.

But one night Jack awakened to
A sudden heavy gale,
That lashed the mast head as it blew
And rent in two the sail.

Poor Dublin, he was terrified
And thought of hearth and home,
And looking up to Heaven cried
Against the wat'ry foam
And vowed if God would spare his hide
He never more would roam.

The wind blew hard against his craft;
It threatened life and limb.
As waves rose up before and aft'
They nearly pulled him in.

The mast, it buckled 'neath the strain
And swung its heavy weight,
But Jack was blinded by the rain,
And saw it far too late.

The bow dipped down below the tide
As water swept the wreck,
The mast knocked Dublin to one side
And lay him out on deck.

How long he lay there no one knows
And no one heard the cries,
The voices, as the vultures rose
Into the pale blue skies.

His boat and rod had been pulled through
The waves that slapped his skin;
His book and pipe were taken too
And all he owned sucked in.

Lashed by the salt, swept by the spray
With pain inside his head,
Adrift upon a plank, he lay
Between alive and dead.

Poor Dublin, no more terrified,
His thoughts returned him home,
Into the arms of those who cried
When he first left to roam.
But God saw fit to tan his hide
And wash him 'neath the foam.


copyright (c) JMStevens, 2002

This is my first ballad