large/5152/short_poetry_collection_103k_1112_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc103_spanishwaters_masefield_ln_64kb_8
large/5152/short_poetry_collection_103k_1112_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc103_spanishwaters_masefield_ln_64kb
English
5152
We bore it through the marshes in a half score battered chests, Sinking in the sucking quagmires to the sunburn on our breasts, Heaving over tree trunks, gasping, damning at the flies and heat, Longing for a long drink, out of silver, in the shipŌĆÖs cool lazareet. WE BORE IT THROUGH THE MARSHES IN A HALF SCORE BATTERED CHESTS SINKING IN THE SUCKING QUAGMIRES TO THE SUNBURN ON OUR BREASTS HEAVING OVER TREE TRUNKS GASPING DAMMING AT THE FLIES AND HEAT LONGING FOR A LONG DRINK OUT OF SILVER IN THE SHIP'S COOL LAZARE
ks. Spanish Waters - Wikisource, the free online library Download Spanish Waters From Wikisource Jump to navigation Jump to search Spanish Waters by John Masefieldinformation about this edition. sister projects: Wikidata item. 205493Spanish WatersJohn Masefield Spanish waters, Spanish waters, you are ringing in my ears, Like a slow sweet piece of music from the grey forgotten years; Telling tales, and beating tunes, and bringing weary thoughts to me Of the sandy beach at Muertos, where I would that I could be. There's a surf breaks on Los Muertos, and it never stops to roar, And it's there we came to anchor, and it's there we went ashore, Where the blue lagoon is silent amid snags of rotting trees, Dropping like the clothes of corpses cast up by the seas. We anchored at Los Muertos when the dipping sun was red, We left her half-a-mile to sea, to west of Nigger Head; And before the mist was on the Cay, before the day was done, We were all ashore on Muertos with the gold that we had won.  SPANISH WATERS BY JOHN MASEFIELD RED FOOTLEEPERVOX DOT ORG BY LEONHILLY SPANISH WATER SPANISH WATERS YOU ARE RINGING IN MY EARS LIKE A SLOW SWEET PIECE OF MUSIC FROM THE GREY FORGOTTEN YEARS TELLING TALES AND BEATING TUNES AND BRINGING WEARY THOUGHTS TO ME OF THE SANDY BEACH AT MERTOS WHERE I WOULD THAT I COULD BE THERE'S A SURF BRAKES ON LOS MORTOS AND IT NEVER STOPS TO ROAR AND IT'S THERE WE CAME TO ANCHOR AND IT'S THERE WE WENT ASHORE WHERE THE BLUE LAGOON IS SILENT AMID SNAGS OF ROTTING TREES DROPPING LIKE THE CLOTHES OF CORPSES CAST UP BY THE SEAS WE ANCHORED AT LOS MORTOS WHEN THE DIPPING SUN WAS RED WE LEFT HER HALF A MILE TO SEA TO WEST OF NIGGERHEAD AND BEFORE THE MIST WAS ON THE QUAY BEFORE THE DAY WAS DONE WE WERE ALL ASHORE ON MARATOS WITH THE GOLDS THAT WE HAD WON
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