The Decemberists - A Cautionary Song lyrics
[The Decemberists - A Cautionary Song lyrics]
There's a place your mother goes
When everybody else is soundly sleeping
Through the lights of Beacon Street
And if you listen, you can hear her weeping
She's weeping
'Cause the gentlemen are calling
And the snow is softly
Falling on her petticoat
And she's standing in the harbor
And she's waiting for the sailors
In the jolly boat see how they approach
With dirty hands and trousers torn
They grapple till she's safe
Within their keeping
A gag is placed between her lips
To keep her sorry tongue from any speaking
Or screaming
And they row her out to packets
Where the sailors' sorry racket
Calls for maidenhead
And she's scarce above the gunwales
When her clothes fall to a bundle
And she's laid in bed on the upper deck
And so she goes from ship to ship
Her ankles clasped
Her arms so rudely pinioned
'Till at last she's satisfied
The lot of the marina's teeming minions
In their opinions
And they tell her not to say a thing
To cousin, kindred
Kith or kin or she'll end up dead
And they throw her dirty dollars
And return her to the harbor
Where she goes to bed
And this is how you're fed
So be kind to your mother
Though she may seem an awful bother
And the next time she tries
To feed you collard greens
Remember what she does when you're asleep
When everybody else is soundly sleeping
Through the lights of Beacon Street
And if you listen, you can hear her weeping
She's weeping
'Cause the gentlemen are calling
And the snow is softly
Falling on her petticoat
And she's standing in the harbor
And she's waiting for the sailors
In the jolly boat see how they approach
With dirty hands and trousers torn
They grapple till she's safe
Within their keeping
A gag is placed between her lips
To keep her sorry tongue from any speaking
Or screaming
And they row her out to packets
Where the sailors' sorry racket
Calls for maidenhead
And she's scarce above the gunwales
When her clothes fall to a bundle
And she's laid in bed on the upper deck
And so she goes from ship to ship
Her ankles clasped
Her arms so rudely pinioned
'Till at last she's satisfied
The lot of the marina's teeming minions
In their opinions
And they tell her not to say a thing
To cousin, kindred
Kith or kin or she'll end up dead
And they throw her dirty dollars
And return her to the harbor
Where she goes to bed
And this is how you're fed
So be kind to your mother
Though she may seem an awful bother
And the next time she tries
To feed you collard greens
Remember what she does when you're asleep