| As I roved out one Shrovetide Eve
|
| Among the bramble and the cloudberry
|
| It’s then I heard a melody
|
| A-blowing over the Northern Sea:
|
| The song of the old men of the shells
|
| The old men of the shells, my boys
|
| The old men of the shells
|
| I left the ones who love me well
|
| To find my home in the ocean swells
|
| And follow the old men of the shells
|
| I made my bed so shallow
|
| Among the marigold and marshmallow
|
| It’s then I heard the old men say
|
| «Why deny the sea her prey?
|
| Come follow the old men of the shells»
|
| So deeper, deeper I made my home
|
| Among the samphire, among the ocean foam
|
| The curlew call my curfew bell
|
| Leads me to my bed of pearls
|
| To lie with the old men of the shells
|
| And though the words they sang were few
|
| They had the ring of something true
|
| I listened long and began to sing
|
| They way the unfledged bird takes the wing
|
| I sang with the old men of the shells
|
| I cast around to find my tune
|
| Thinking to sing the song all alone
|
| But wise words on a foolish tongue
|
| Howsoever sweet they be sung
|
| They jangle like the brassy bells of hell
|
| They’ll never please the old men of the shells
|
| The old men of the shells, my boys
|
| The old men of the shells
|
| I left the ones who love me well
|
| To find my home in the ocean swell
|
| And follow the old men of the shells |