Harkon's Final

They sang of a sail that darkened the foam,
of banners like storms on the tide;
A captain whose shadow made kingdoms look home—
Luthor Harkon rode with the tide.


Oh Luthor Harkon, the rum runs deep,
the night keeps the tales we tell;
Laugh once more where the black waves sleep,
and the sea may guard you well.

Some say that the net was woven in gold,
by captains who whispered too low;
A harbor of lanterns, a trap in the cold,
and a hundred proud flags in a row.


Oh Luthor Harkon, the rum runs deep,
the night keeps the tales we tell;
Laugh once more where the black waves sleep,
and the sea may guard you well.

He drank in a tavern where gulls cried loud,
one cup and a thunderous grin;
Then walked to the dark where the cannons were proud—
and the storm swallowed Harkon within.


Oh Luthor Harkon, the rum runs deep,
the night keeps the tales we tell;
Laugh once more where the black waves sleep,
and the sea may guard you well.