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She was raised in a harbour town,
Through hard times and worse;
Her family strugglin' to survive,
Her lover drafted for the war.
She began to work at seventeen,
In a market her uncle ran;
It kept the hourglass tippin',
But it was slowly spillin' sand.
Her youth a tempest of melancholy,
Her memories fragments of lost desire;
The cold ocean wind, and the darkness within,
Eased only by the embers of a once raging fire.
A bleak morrow,
A tenacious stand;
Soldier of sorrow,
In no mans land.
A somber cry,
A futile stand;
Maiden awry,
To her neck in sand.
