Songs to Setirov.

Once was a girl, was sweet as any honeycomb,
Heir of the lord of the land was she.
She laughed as she rode her way down to the riverbank.
Her name was Matilda, and loud sang she.

Once was a man, a sleeping by the riverbank.
All poor at work and at heart was he,
And he called to the girl, with pleading in his sorry voice
“Will you come a-waltzing, Matilda, with me?”

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Will you come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me?
He called to the girl, for sorrow and for sympathy
“Will you come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me?”

“What are you doing, down here beside the riverbank?
What are you thinking so asking of me?
I have me my love. He has of me my waltzing, then.
Ne’er will Matilda come waltzing with thee.”

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
Will you come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me?
She has her her love. She has of him her waltzing, then.
Ne’er will Matilda come waltzing with thee.

“Mind you the days we spent above the pasturelands?
Mind you the promise you made onto me?
It’s hard, cruel hard, to wander where you never know.
Please, come a-waltzing, Matilda, with me.”

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
Will you come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me?
It’s hard, cruel hard, when nowhere lies a home for you.
Please, come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me.”

“I have my home. I have my father’s land so fair.
I have me my love, and I know he loves me.
Forget what we said that day above the pasturelands.
Ne’er will Matilda come waltzing with thee.”

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
Will you come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me?
Forget what you said away above the pasturelands.
Ne’er will Matilda come waltzing with thee.

One fair night, the moon was in the linden tree.
One fair night to the dance rode she.
One fair night he followed her with whispering
“You’ll come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me.”

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
Will you come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me?
One dark night, he followed and he whispered her
“You’ll come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me.”

He caught at her dress. He caught her by her finery.
He caught her and off through the wastes went he.
And he cried to the night, a-crowing of his jealousy
“You’ll come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me.”

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
Will you come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me?
And he ran through the waste, a-crowing all his jealousy
“You’ll come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me.”

Out rode her love, a-following her agonies.
Out rode policemen–One, Two, Three.
There he stood and he laughed where she foundered down the riverbed
Saying “Should have come waltzing, Matilda, with me!”

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Will you come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me?
They dragged him away, a-laughing from the riverbank
“Should have come Waltzing, Matilda, with me.”

Now her love he mourns. Her father he is sorrowful.
Now all o’er the bridgehead hanged will he be.
And his ghost still cries, away across the riverbank
“Who’ll come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me?”

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
Will you come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me?
And his ghost calls you, down by that lonely riverbank,
“Who’ll come a-Waltzing, Matilda, with me?”

So now God save the Queen, and all her lords and ladies fair.
God save you. And God save me.
And God save the soul that stumbles on that riverbank.
And God send you waltzing, Matilda, with me.

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
God send you waltzing, Matilda, with me.
Ne’er mind the night, nor all its lonely riverghosts.
Tonight come waltzing, Matilda, with me.

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
God send you waltzing, Matilda, with me.
Ne’er mind the night, nor all its lonely riverghosts.
Tonight come waltzing, Matilda, with me.

I have lived all my life along the road,
In estimating time by counting swoops
Of powerlines from faded poles. The code
Of town’s-name litanies on highway loops
Taught me my name, my purpose, and my faith.
The only thing that can keep pace with me
Is, in the plow-combed soil, a long-legged wraith.
Somewhere inside each home that I rush by
Are peace and love and things I’ve never had.
My piston muscles, carburetor lungs,
And heart of speed-slick steal must keep me glad.
What more than these could I ever become?
If I run out of road, I will rest then,
Grow old, rust there, and call it journey’s end.

I saw a hilltop, years ago
Half-toppled with continuous gust,
And every time that breeze would blow-
This is not boring you, I trust-
The grass reached up in wanderlust
For where the wind and I would track.
My shoes still smell of that hill’s dust,
So that’s while I’ll be coming back.

To orchards, where the crimson plums
Are bursting with unearthly wine,
To waterfalls where liquid drums
Forever beat out seamless time,
To cities underneath their grime
On minarets or sunk in slums:
To everywhere the sun does shine,
So that’s while I’ll be coming back.

And when I really say farewell,
In twilight on some western shore,
When nobody has plans to tell
The news about me anymore
Know this: we crossed this sea before.
Though my place lies beyond the black
On this side lives what I adore,
So that’s while I’ll be coming back.

Prince, your hospitality
Upon this earth is all I lack.
Your welcome built a home for me,
So that’s why I’ll be coming back.

Before you wake
I here take my
Heartbreaking few
Goodbyes. Through all
I do, I, sore,
Will pine for you.
Pray for me, then,
Before you wake.

I fly no more.
Weep not for me
Who soared. I know
The gut-low thrill
Of war-hue skies.
In joy I died:
Fair price. So now
I fly no more.

I am the champion of what is right.
I am possessed of superhuman power.
Let evildoers all beware my might.

It matters not if it is day or night,
When there are villains, then it is my hour.
I am the champion of what is right.

Like an avenging angel I take flight
To deepest, darkest slum or tallest tower.
Let evildoers all beware my might.

I see the world in terms of black and white
Because that’s how it is, but do not cower;
I am the champion of what is right.

I’m always spoiling for another fight
To start and end, so when I’m grim and glower
Let evildoers all beware my might.

As long as draw breath, within my sight
The innocent will have their chance to flower.
I am the champion of what is right.
Let evildoers all beware my might.

You do not care
But keep staring
At where they shot
Me down. Hot blood,
Long clotted, too
Cold now to see.
Yet who cares? You?
You do not care.

I wanted to do something big and clean,
But this is not exactly what I meant.
This is the filthiest beast I’ve ever seen.

I can’t tell if they’re stupid or just mean.
They said to me “go wash an elephant.”
I wanted to do something big and clean.

The grit under my fingernails is green.
My hands are wrinkled. My sore back is bent.
This is the filthiest beast I’ve ever seen.

They’ve given me a mountainside to preen,
To scrub, lather, and rinse away the scent!
I wanted to do something big and clean.

What has this guy been doing, that he’s been
Encrusted so with each base element?
This is the filthiest beast I’ve ever seen.

But, unobserved by me, there grows a gleam
In huge dark ivory eyes, for time well spent.
I wanted to do something big and clean.
This is the cleanest beast I’ve ever seen.

Did you once play Monopoly
To find the game went on for days,
Till hotels staggered sloppily
Down Boardwalk where the pauper pays?
Did you start up with eyes ablaze
(And thus get Out Of Jail—for free!)
Cry “I want more than these variant grays!
There’s more to the world than ghosts can see?”

They told us in a homily
That all the world was but a maze,
Where light was an anomaly,
Where only death tax ever stays.
While I’ll admit there is malaise,
The cosmos must be more, surely.
Surely there must be better ways,
And more to the world than ghosts can see.

There may wait evils at the door
Like hate, and fear, and mayonnaise.
This may indeed be eclipse, or
Maybe instead it’s just a phase.
Some things the sad earth yet displays
Are sweet, though ignored they may be.
These are, if I may use the phrase,
More to the world than ghosts can see.

Princess of Vengeance, you are fair
And cruel, but what is that to me?
I know where there is purer prayer,
And more to the world than ghosts can see.

There is a place where seagulls call.
Where waves die out amongst the sand.
Where gray sky overarches all.
And quiet there I sometimes stand.
A fitful breeze drifts over the land,
Then goes somewhere it went before.
Caressed by its ephemeral hand
I stand upon a lonely shore.

The city bleeds eternal screams
(For high class living takes its toll)
The seizure clubs, the fevered dreams,
The sex and drugs and rock and roll.
The Emperors hoard lives they stole.
Their slaves call out “Now faster! More!”
I smile, but I don’t feel as whole
As when I’m at a lonely shore.

A night of lurid gaslights dawns
(Thou Shalt Not be allowed to rest)
Dead faces grin to shout and yawn
And mourn because they cannot jest.
The frenzy soon will reach its crest.
O spirit that I knew before!
Deliver me into the west
To stand upon a lonely shore.

Prince, you may dance and you may play.
Myself I hope for something more.
I’ll cross the river great, one day
And stand upon a lonely shore.