When you reach the crossing of wane and wax And turn left on the right hand road A deaf man will be hearing birdsong And a mute humming sweet song low Their treble clefts will fill the air And the sea witch cries of things she lacks And monkeys swoop from gas lamps above With treasure on their hairy backs
Ode to open season in the sea Where mermaids swim to Galilee Swift red orphans paint the gravel sidesteps And tornados rip the sky Shake the Earth like Nephalim Sing, ye sweet Cherubim Find tigers in your blind spots From Bengal rugs and oriental pots You will find at the market way Fall deep in love with the sky above And only whisper during May
The river doves are ripe as rush The fly fish are all feathered Come ye faithful denizens to Discuss the imminent weather Blithe as nail and smooth as tooth The Cherokees sear the horseβs tether And Poseidonβs monsters rush out like flu To trample all of swan footed you There is no promise in a word But crystal chimes and charcoal blacks So tell the sea witch what you want When you reach the crossing of wane and wax