Six in the morning she’s up there
Up on the Widow’s Walk
Pacing the deck, eyes seaward
Up on the Widow’s Walk
Maybe it’s today, she says
I’ll let the fancy tempt me
She searches for a sign of a ship
But the sea is cold and empty
Lost at sea, they said he was
Never found a trace
Still she scans the horizon
Still her footsteps pace
She fell for his puppy eyes
His face chapped and battered
Most days he was rude or drunk
But charming when it mattered
But he’s never coming back to her
He’s never coming back
Always a thimble of hope, she says
But he’s never coming back
A short fuse and a hammer fist
He could reduce a bar to rubble
The sea was the best place for him
Kept him out of trouble
In the back of her mind she wonders
Does he have another life?
Shanghai, a new passport
Three kids and a wife?
Six in the morning she’s up there
Up on the Widow’s Walk
Pacing the deck, eyes seaward
Up on the Widow’s Walk