1. The Isle

It's been five days
In these boats of the Glen Carrig
When I's awed by such solitude
Alas, God moves in mysterious ways

So we pulled wearily towards the isle
I swear t'was all but flagrant flatness
If we'd only known it was sheer madness
We'd stayed away many nautical mile

Then there came the first telling of life
Like a lonesome wind on a breathy sigh
Yet there was no breeze that filled the air
With such a despairful cry

We harked to the weeping of souls
When it died away – no further calls
There was this monstrous silence after all
Again we harked – what might next befall?

A sullen growling from afar
The dark was full of it, I swear
Aye, no word of which I've knowledge
So well describes the hunger, most awesome to the ear

2. The Thing That Made Search

We looked at one another
Through the smoke
Through the growing dark
(May) the devil take the hindmost

Aye – an unseen thing stood
And cried upon the decks
Through planks of groaning wood
Right above our heads
And scrubbed at the woodwork

Now take the pipe right from your mouth!
At outmost tension – listen! Crouch!
Be aware of horrid powers!
Few moments seem like endless hours

With sheer destructive urge
A many-flapped thing strives
The thing that made search –
Like raw flesh – but it was alive

Secure the fastening, aye!
Brace yourselves!
There's more to it than meets the eye

3. Like Red Foam (The Great Storm)

Call me Winterstraw
Mere passenger of the Glen Carrig
Preparing to meet so great a storm
As might well fill the heart with panic

For now it was being slow and oily black
Against the mighty redness of the sky

One quarter of the sky –
A mighty arc of blood-red fire
Doesn't matter who you are
Within the elements fierce ire

The sun, a great full moon
Pale and slightly monochrome
For it appeared to crest
The black cloud like red foam

The sea was all blown up
Into vast clouds of dust
Like froth and I knew
The storm was upon us

No man heard aught of the thunder
The storm's roar made all else silent
Trying to burst our boats asunder
And my memory recalled the distant island

(May God have mercy)

4. The Weedmen

It was a stormy night
Yet it was none when a lightning'd strike
No moon that would shine upon...
... my suspicions – they'd grew on and on

The weedmen come anigh
Soon – they are upon us!
The weedmen come anigh
Hideous face will be among us

It was a stormy night
We stared down upon a most unearthly sight
For the valley all beneath us was aswarm
None of us – I swear – was safe from harm

The giants voice slowly sank
Away into the distance, thinned
Alas, I swear I felt so bare and blank
And yet no sound beyond that of the wind

... the weedmen dwell
In these depths of green
None of us will live
In their graves at sea

5. To Mourn Job

While we sit anxious around the bonfires
Trying to think of things to say
All is lying at the very brink
I guess we've seen enough today

Aye, it is with truth I say:
all fierce to avenge we were
As Job had fallen prey
This night was just a blur

His spirit we will cherish
To mourn – we had no time
The wicked's light shall perish
His spark of fire shall not shine

The bo'sun placed his hand with dread
Over the poor lad's heart
Job – so mangled an be-bled
And the boy moved not ever again

Our bonfires well raked
Sent up nightly pillars of flame
The next morning's dawn we waked
There was a great wind and rain

I hope some day, my friend
You'll be back on peaceful soil
The least said the better
Gotten rid of all turmoil

6. The Light In The Weed (Mary Madison)

(It's been) seven years she'd been imprisoned
Seven years beset with dread
Seven years white death envisioned
Seven years of doubt well-fed

The desolation of the weed continent
And the cemetary of seas
Her volition turned all somnolent
Longing for an ease

There stood Mary Madison
Firmly the ladle she gripped
And out of some old bucket
Good ol' rum she dipped

Howbeit we won the day
The captain's wife was lost
Mary wallows in dismay
Pities (her demise) with disgust

So brace yourselves, ye seamen brave
Behold a bright light burning
Whenever be the seas so grave –
For man and maid the tide is turning