The Loom by GREG FARLEY

On an island in Acadia
she shears wild sheep
she sat by the loom
in the lighthouse room
but her I could not keep

I was married to a drizzling dawn
a plug of tobacco in my teeth
hauling up heavy nets
from yon deep

He crushed the pup in his
bare hands
muttering "that there must be the last one"
the fence posts have all been pounded in
tell me what is left to be done.

Green sea
the creatures there did roam
green eyes
how they did take hold

I was travelin through a mountain pass
a hag hailed me in
I caught a glimpse of her daughter
and off my saddle slid

She wants a freeholder
I own no land have no chauffeur
boulders collide mud began to slide
took our breath and sealed our eyes

Green sea
the creatures there did roam
green eyes
how they did take hold

• Folk
• folk artist
• poet
• singer-songwriter
• New York