There was a longshoreman named Joe
in the pub he let the beer flow
when he played pool
he fought the fool
wanting to cash in on his show
You've lost your mate one decade gone,
a longshoreman who bode his time
upon the seas from dusk till dawn.
Knew every route, when he should climb
the towering waves to safely ground
his skiff, bring men home in their prime
to families, lovers, safe and sound.
After those years spent in your arms,
to deal with him not being around,
you potter in an empty farm
where laughter used to scrape the sky.
Despondently, you sought to calm
your loneliness with Kentucky rye.
On certain days it's overdone,
like anniversaries. You sigh
about the past, thinking if the one
thing that can save you is a smoking gun.
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