Songs of the Deep

Sitting with my thoughts askew,

setting in the sun.

With every tissue, bone, sinew

trying not to run.

As though that day had foretold not

the horrors that exist.

And luring they, as sirens’ calls,

into that great abyss.

I heard them not, until I came

upon the town of Ci.

And told to me by elder folk

of these songs of the deep.

Of ancient times, these men did tell

of such a strange event.

Where men did drown their daughters

out of fear of Ci’s lament.

A curse from which men could see not

were always on their minds.

To please this god named Ci, they tried

casting virgins into brine.

I sat there listening to their tale

upon the salty barge

As men told of their own daughters

being taken in the dark.

They say at night you hear them,

a’ wailing all alone.

Calling out for someone near

to come and take them home.

But where they dwell, the men did say,

no free soul wants to go.

For those who dared did not return

and never did come home.

The men they speak of horrors now

that happen here at night.

Of certain things that writhe and crawl

and stain the streets with brine.

Every now and then a maiden,

who’s both virtuous and true,

is taken by these horrid things

into the eerie blue.

They say these things are agents

of this terrifying god.

Sent out to find a sacrifice

to sing his luring songs.

For no one else has seen these things,

although I dared to ask.

Except for Mary Abbey,

on that day she spoke her last.

And never seen during the night

are daughters of young men.

Locked away inside their homes,

until the darkness ends.

For when brine’s upon the air,

And not a breeze does blow.

You’re sure to hear these siren songs

rise from the great below.

You’re sure to see the darkness move,

as shadows grope and twist

And creatures come upon the town

to fulfill their master’s wish.

You’re sure to hear a woman’s cry

in wee hours of the morn’.

And beg for her lost daughter

who is here with us no more.

Now you may sit and scowl

and laugh at what we speak.

Be glad, my friend, for not a man

sings these songs of the deep.

END