I do not know Italian tunes <br />But this whistled song <br />It bears a sadness <br />That I hear and that I feel <br />The song is whistled to the setting sun <br />And the rising moon <br />I feel the strain and the pain <br />Of too mangy years of whistling <br />I can not see a face and never will <br />Its on the other side <br />Of a high stone wall <br />And it is moving, moving away <br />From me <br />- <br />The tune is in a minor key <br />Always a sad thing <br />And all of my chest is hollow listening <br />I need something now- a drink <br />And my hand trembles writing <br />The whistle grows faint but still I hear <br />Why does he whistle this dark song to me <br />The song gets darker <br />The sea gets bluer <br />I am a little shaken, a little fearful <br />And I cast down my eyes <br />And find protection <br />Chewing my fingers and nails <br />On trembling hands <br />- <br />There is a ghost shark in the harbour <br />And he whistles under water <br />Oh! so now there is a duet <br />And a plot <br />And I have fallen <br />For the oldest trick in history.<br /><br />Geoffrey Fafard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-whistler-of-st-angelo/
