My name is William Kempthorne; fine spices are my trade; and I ply that trade on a merchantman, and the seven seas I've sailed. I've carved the waves of the Persian Gulf; I've skimmed the Sunda Strait; but I never dreamed, as I plied my trade, that a spice would seal my fate.
Well, I've chased the sun and been drunk on rum in the brothels of Beijing; bought sandalwood and cardamom for the price of a diamond ring. And I've shared my spoils with the Ottoman Turk and the Arab drovers, too; and I've lain my head on a harlot's bed in the house of a Syrian Jew.
It was a warm night in the middle of spring when I sailed into her world; and I caught sight of her cinnamon skin as her silken dress unfurled in the warm wind; and the moon was high as it glistened on the shore. I could taste the sweat on the back of her neck and it thrilled me to the core.
I said, “Come with me and we'll sail the sea all the way to Plymouth Sound; and you'll be my bride; by the morning tide in marriage we'll be bound.” So we settled down in a country town where she served my bed and board, and she gave delight to my body and soul and I gave thanks to the Lord.
And then one day, having been away, I returned to find her gone; but I tracked her down to London town, in bed with a minister's son. So I took my knife and I stabbed him twice and I watched his life-blood flow. Then I kissed her once, while I slit her throat, just because I loved her so.
So here I sit in Newgate gaol, but tomorrow I'll be free, when they take me hence to that tricorn fence they called the Tyburn Tree. And as I draw my dying breath and contemplate my sin, my final sight, as the noose pulls tight, will be her salty, cinnamon skin.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
