Upon The Troubadour: A Nautical Ballad

Anna Fox

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Turabian Note

Anna Fox, “Upon The Troubadour: A Nautical Ballad,” The Westmarch Literary Journal 3, no. 2 (February 24, 2023), westmarchjournal.org/3/2/upon-the-troubadour/.

Turabian Bibliography

Fox, Anna. “Upon The Troubadour: A Nautical Ballad.” The Westmarch Literary Journal 3, no. 2 (February 24, 2023). westmarchjournal.org/3/2/upon-the-troubadour/.

MLA

Fox, Anna. “Upon The Troubadour: A Nautical Ballad.” The Westmarch Literary Journal vol. 3, no. 2, February 24, 2023), westmarchjournal.org/3/2/upon-the-troubadour/.

APA

Fox, A. (2023). Upon The Troubadour: A Nautical Ballad. The Westmarch Literary Journal, 3(2). westmarchjournal.org/3/2/upon-the-troubadour/

Let me tell ye of those days
Ere the sea killed Hope
Let me tell of what I know
Before ye heave the rope.

The Troubadour, that mighty bark
She was my lady fair
And stole she all my heart away
Tho’ she were long and spare

Her gleaming decks were polished bright
With gilded sunny sheen
Her mainhead carved from oaken beam
And painted cheery green

And I, the men, and officers
Lined up to pay our due
To this dear lady, newly met,
And to our Captain too.

The Captain, name of Ferguson,
Was quiet, dark, and grim
Each man aboard would bow his head
Than look direct at him

Sailors all, if ye be men,
And would like men be free,
O choose your captain wisely, man,
Or choose dark misery

The Troubadour she travelled fast
And flit upon the wind
Beneath her prow the foaming waves
Like laughter split and skimmed

And we, the sons of Lamech’s son
Worked out our forty days
Heaved the rope, and heeded well
Our captain and his ways

It chanced when once I clambered up
Upon the mizzenmast
I saw a broad and darkling cloud
Advancing on us fast

The stormhead mighty towered high
A fearful breathing thing
And as we scrambl’d 'bout the deck
Our Captain’s voice did ring

“Forward, all ye cow’ring dogs,
And face the swelling sea!
If ye be men, then act as men,
Or ye’ll be facing me.

Sailors all, if ye be men,
And would like men be free,
Stand and fight for what is right
And never think to flee

Wet ropes, wet hands, we slipped and pulled
At last we furled the sails
And as I gazed towards the prow
My heart began to quail

For there stood Captain Ferguson,
Upon the dark fo’castle
His hands were clasped, he faced the storm
His Nature-birthèd vassal

As Heaven flung its lightning down,
His shadowed form was cast
In glaring light, a maddened blight
Fell on him in the blast

For still he seemed to hold that light
Within his darkened eyes
And still he drove us onwards as
The storm at last did rise

The stores! Alas, most all were lost
Unto the tossing spray
We begged our Captain let us halt
His will we could not sway

The storm had lifted from our decks
The shredded clouds dispersed
And though we asked to find a port,
Our Captain only cursed.

Look, there is land, with waving palms
And water bright and clear
But no, it’s no, and on we go
Our course we cannot veer

Sailors all, if ye be men,
And would like men be free,
Remember through it all ye are
Alone upon the sea

Onward, onward, ever on
Into the failing sun
Come, get thee onward, get thee gone,
The race is never won.

Heave to, and swing, and furl the sails
Now do it once again
Ne’er dare to drink, nor dare to think
Forget what makes ye men

One day, as I lay festering
Beneath the midday blaze
I felt a withered, pliant hand
Creep through my distant daze

It gripped my arm with fearful strength
And feverish intent
I squinted up to see a face
In dreadful wonderment

It was a man from down below
Who used to keep the food,
His face was pale, with darting eyes,
Both witherèd and shrewd.

He scrabbled anxious like a rat
But held me firm as oak,
The truth he told, it echoed deep
In every word he spoke.

"Now listen, man, and listen well,
To what I have to say:
This sea is cursed, and we are lost,
And will not find our way.

"The storm hath sent us off our course
The Captain claims to know
Where we have been, and still are now,
And where we mean to go.

"Yet he is blinded to the truth,
Insists we near our port
He presses on, though starv’d we are,
And nothing him shall thwart.

“All we who know the truth, me lad,
Must stand against the lie,
We must turn round the Troubadour,
Or every man shall die.”

His pale eyes flickered as he spoke
And turned towards the prow
Our Captain stood eternal as
The waves the ship did plough

Sailors all, if ye be men,
And would like men be free,
Protect your brothers from the waves
And dark eternity.

What could I do? Lord God, what else,
Where is the righteous rod?
Alone, alone, and nothing else
But mutiny for God.

The sun beheld, the wretched sun
He watched us sell our souls
He hissed and grinned and travelled on
And still he onward rolls

We turned about, and made our way
In search of nearby land
We prayed within our perjured hearts
With folded, cracking hands

Strange were those days, and strange the sights
That each of us beheld
By strange and horrid magic spell
It seemed that we were held

I thought I saw the Captain’s form,
From the mast he hung,
I heard a voice in cold reproach,
And to us whispers clung.

Sailors all, if ye be men,
And would like men be free,
Beware the men who hold your fate
And twist your destiny.

So here I am, upon the block
A rope about my neck
A hundred men alone at sea,
A body on the deck.

You may tell me I did wrong,
And chose the falser side
But we were brothers, braving waves,
And brothers would have died.

Can power to one man be owed
Upon the desert sea?
Can he command to forsake land
And sail for Jordan’s lee?

If I would save my fellow man
Is that a justice done?
Would you not justly turn against
All kings to save thy son?

So come and heave upon the rope,
Ye sailors, lift me high.
And know ye all, seafarin’ men,
'Tis for your sake I die.

Sailors all, if ye be men,
And would like men be free,
Come share my length of twisted rope,
There’s room enow for ye.

Anna is a senior Literature major from North Carolina.