voice / written

[thatched]

[it is a little after dinner, and he is in his little boat, lying back and watching the moon over the water, singing low to himself]

O come home my sailor boy
Far over deep gray waves you roam
I've been waiting long long years
To see you come back home.

O come home my sailor boy
Someone else waits for you, too
The glinting muskets at the door
Just say how I loved you

O don't worry sailor boy
I will watch you mount the stand
And when you go, my sailor boy
I'll take your hard cold hand

[after that fades into stillness, he'll write]

Ever felt too strong for anyone's good? Like you're not quite yourself anymore due to circumstances? Offhand, anyone think Davey Jones will grant requests if you end up under with him?

[not that he's thinking of doing anything reckless.]

Comments

[Voice]

[thatched]

Aye well--just try to let him figure things out on his own a little before answering a million questions. It's the only way we'll ever break him of the habit.

[Voice]

[by_heart]

I'm trying, but it's my habit too, you know? He didn't really have the luxury of figuring things out on his own back home.

[Voice]

[thatched]

Aye, I understand. Do your best.