Well you made it away from the orchestra pit
out to the shoreline where you tenderly sir
and you light up your 20th clove of the day
try to think of the lines from that Ben Jonson play
and it comes back in pieces and it breaks into rhyme
til it all sounds like music in three quarter time
and the smoke curls up and it dances away and it's gone
Polly Vaughn, Polly Vaughn, Polly Vaughn

The night's black as charcoal and the ocean's so clear
That you feel as though you could see England from here
And a bit of the music drifts out from inside
And you feel like the cover of an old 45
And the tune finally folds and the ashes fall down
They float to your boots and they drop to the ground
And the smoke curls up and it rises as slowly as dawn
Polly Vaughn, Polly Vaughn, Polly Vaughn

Now the music swells higher and the lights start to dim
And it sounds like an old standard Anglican hymn
And your voice is as high as the ocean is deep
And time's just a meter that you struggle to keep
But there aren't any ships sailing out of this pier
And you feel as though you could see England from here
And the smoke curls up and it drifts out to sea like a swan
Polly Vaughn, Polly Vaughn, Polly Vaughn

7/2001

Copyright 2001 by Adam Selzer, all rights reserved, ASCAPBack to home page