large/5152/short_poetry_collection_103k_1112_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc103_spanishwaters_masefield_ln_64kb_1
large/5152/short_poetry_collection_103k_1112_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc103_spanishwaters_masefield_ln_64kb
English
5152
ItŌĆÖs not the way to end it all. I'm old, and nearly blind, And an old man's past's a strange thing, for it never leaves his mind. IT'S NOT THE WAY TO END IT ALL I'M OLD AND NEARLY BLIND AND AN OLD MAN'S PAST'S A STRANGE THING FOR IT NEVER LEAVES HIS MIND
The moon came white and ghostly as we laid the treasure down, There was gear thereŌĆÖd make a beggarman as rich as Lima Town, Copper charms and silver trinkets from the chests of Spanish crews, Gold doubloons and double moidores, louis dŌĆÖors and portagues, Clumsy yellow-metal earrings from the Indians of Brazil, Uncut emeralds out of Rio, bezoar stones from Guayaquil; Silver, in the crude and fashioned, pots of old Arica Bronze, Jewels from the bones of Incas desecrated by the Dons. We smoothed the place with mattocks, and we took and blazed the tree, Which marks yon where the gear is hid that none will ever see, And we laid aboard the ship again, and south away we steers, Through the loud surf of Los Muertos which is beating in my ears. IŌĆÖm the last alive that knows it. All the rest have gone their ways Killed, or died, or come to anchor in the old Mulatas Cays, And I go singing, fiddling, old and starved and in despair, And I know where all that gold is hid, if I were only there. ER IN THE SHIP'S COOL LAZARE THE MOON CAME WHITE AND GHOSTLY AS WE LAID THE TREASURE DOWN THERE WAS GEAR THERE TO MAKE A BEGGAR MAN AS RICH AS LIMA TOWN COPPER CHARMS AND SILVER TRINKETS FROM THE CHESTS OF SPANISH CREWS GOLD TO BLOOMS AND DOUBLE MOIDORS LOUIS D'ORS AND PORTAGOOSE CLUMSY YELLOW METAL EAR RINGS FROM THE INDIANS OF BRAZIL UNCUT EMERALDS OUT OF RIO BEZOUR STONES FROM GAYA KILL SILVER IN THE CRUDE AND FASHIONED POTS OF OLD ARICA BRONZE JEWELS FROM THE BONES OF INCAS DESECRATED BY THE DONS WE SMOOTHED THE PLACE WITH MATTOCKS AND WE TOOK AND BLAZED THE TREE WHICH MARKS YON WHERE THE GEAR IS HID THAT NONE WILL EVER SEE AND WE LAID ABOARD THE SHIP AGAIN AND SOUTH AWAY WE STEERS THROUGH THE LOUD SURF OF LOSMERTOS WHICH IS BEATING IN MY EARS I'M THE LAST ALIVE THAT KNOWS IT ALL THE REST HAVE GONE THEIR WAYS KILLED OR DIED OR COME TO ANCHOR IN THE OLD MULATTOUS CAVES AND I GO SINGING FIDDLING OLD AND STARVED AND IN DESPAIR AND I KNOW WHERE ALL THAT GOLD IS HID IF I WERE ONLY THERE
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