By the storm-torn shoreline a woman is standing The spray strung like jewels in her hair And the sea tore the rocks near the desolate landing As though it had known she stood there. Chorus: For she had come down to condemn that wild ocean For the murderous loss of her man, His boat sailed out on Wednesday morning And it's feared it's gone down with all hands. Oh and white were the wave-caps And wild was their parting So fierce is the warring of love, But she prayed to the gods Both of men and of sailors Not to cast their cruel nets o'er her love. There's a school on the hill Where the songs of dead fathers Are led toward tempests and gales, Where their God-given wings Are clipped close to their bodies, And their eyes are bound-'round with ships' sails. What force leads a man To a life filled with danger High on seas or a mile underground? It's when need is his master And poverty's no stranger, And there's no other work to be found.