He trudged on up from the great seaport
After a year at sea,
And in his mind was a single thought,
That thought was Emily.
He’d got her note when he disembarked
In the pouring, driving rain,
And read it under a single spark:
‘You may never come here again!’
‘Never come here again,’ it said,
What was that meant to mean?
The blood had rushed to his sailor’s head,
He conjured a nightmare scene,
He thought of the tidy garden path,
Of seeing a man at the door,
And Emily hiding behind his hat,
A man he’d not seen before.
Perhaps the year was too long to wait,
She hated it on her own,
He’d often suffered a lack of faith
That she could remain alone.
He’d conjured visions in distant ports
At the curious lack of mail,
While he had written his deepest thoughts
To post them before he sailed.
He’d thought of her at the village dance,
He’d thought of her down the street,
And meeting a friendly guy, perchance
Who would sweep her off her feet.
While he had suffered temptations too
At the taverns along the way,
The sparkling eyes of the barmaids there
When the ship put in for a stay.
But now he trudged in the driving rain
At that terrible time of night,
When shadows loomed to increase the gloom
That he felt, with never a light.
He’d struck a match when he’d read the note
But it fizzled in record time,
He’d only read when the match went out
The first, not the second line.
He felt his way up the garden path
And he paused, then knocked at the door,
His heart was there in his mouth at last
To the tread of a man, for sure.
The door swung open, a man stood there
A quizzical look in his eyes,
‘We didn’t expect you here so late,
But still, what a nice suprise.’
The sailor stood, was taken aback,
He hadn’t the words to say,
‘What have you done with Emily,’
His breath was taken away.
‘Your Emily’s moved, she went next door,
I see she’s burning a light,
You’d better get home, you’re living there,
She’s waiting for you tonight.’
David Lewis Paget
