It was a day made for drying
And for sailing away.
A balmy intoxicating breeze
Swept in off the sea
Turning the heads of old sailors
And taking the sails of towels
Which billowed, swayed and pulsed
And mesmerized by the tribal rhythm
Danced themselves into a frenzy
Of desire and passion.
So I hung out the rest of the washing
You left draped about
In your hurry to leave
And sailed after you.

Reaching the island I lay low until nightfall
Then climbed to the cliff top
Where I found you unguarded
But still bound by the ropes
That must have stopped you embracing me.
So I cut them and led you down
Through the moonlight and stars and spray
A silent getaway, I had hoped for
But you called out for help
To the pirate who had captured your heart -
Just as he did on the last wash day.