The Ferryman

The Ferryman

 

Wheresoever went the moon?

It went out with the ferry

No more lovers to it swoon

Or sing or dance, make merry

 

This is the tale of where and how

And this tale I’ll recount it soon

This is with his wicked bow

How the ferryman stole the moon

 

A lurid night upon the swamp

The villagers with sons and daughters

A festival with flourish and pomp

The moon shone bright upon the waters

 

The summer dance had all delighted

And all were busy making merry

All but one had been invited:

The operator of the ferry

 

In a drunk and bitter haze

Upon the ferry, upon the water

The ferryman glared his bitter gaze

For he lacked wife or son or daughter

 

For years, thought he, I’ve borne this slight

Watching them mock me with their mirth

As beneath the bright moon’s golden light

They dance upon the joyous earth

 

Across his features crept a chill smile

As he gazed where lambent Luna faced

A plan as cunning as it was vile

To see their joy ever erased

 

He hastened to enact his fiendish scheme

And fetched the thick-wrought mooring ropes

What lay beneath pale Luna’s gleam

And with which he aimed to dash their hopes

 

The line flew into the sky

As he cast it with a mighty throw

And from the villagers came a cry

At the shadow it cast so far below

 

Quickly now the rope pulled taut

As on the moon it caught and hung

With he as joyous as they were not

As across the swamp his vile voice rung

 

Let us see you sing and dance!

Sing and dance without this moon

What mocking merriment shall you bring

In the dark of an unlighted June?

 

With words imparted so bitter and few

The ferry raised its heavy anchor

The village left to mill and stew

In the wake of the ferryman’s bitter rancor

 

They could but watch as he cleared the shoal

Grunting with effort upon the oar

As he cast off with the moon he stole

And the sky was dark forever more