On alabaster ear lobes
Were two white pearls,
And to the sweet Marie Celeste,
Would sing the joys of the world.
She was born in June.
Loved to dance.
It's quite tragic, really,
That she was on that ship,
The one called the Marie Celeste.
A mystery never resolved, you see.
The pearls whispered the joys of the world,
But they never whispered the joys of the sea.
Pearls do not lie, but sing
On the lobes of an odd thing,
White pearls on white lobes,
Marie Celeste would only wear white robes.
The summer months were not enjoyable,
Marie Celeste hated the heat.
She was always the one who asked the questions,
And the one who died at sea.
If by chance, when under water,
You find a pair of dusty pearls,
Will they still sing, I wonder,
The joys of the whole wide world?
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
On alabaster ear lobes
Were two white pearls,
And to the sweet Marie Celeste,
Would sing the joys of the world.
She was born in June.
Loved to dance.
It's quite tragic, really,
That she was on that ship,
The one called the Marie Celeste.
A mystery never resolved, you see.
The pearls whispered the joys of the world,
But they never whispered the joys of the sea.
Pearls do not lie, but sing
On the lobes of an odd thing,
White pearls on white lobes,
Marie Celeste would only wear white robes.
The summer months were not enjoyable,
Marie Celeste hated the heat.
She was always the one who asked the questions,
And the one who died at sea.
If by chance, when under water,
You find a pair of dusty pearls,
Will they still sing, I wonder,
The joys of the whole wide world?
