The Sovereign Prince

The mariner is sailing

Sailing across the sea

Seeking out the enemy

Bringing spices back home to me

Spanish gold for the taking

At the harbour of Cadiz

Their fleet they left a-blazing

On the Ocean bed, stone cold, her cannons lie

Eldorado lies a shimmering

Shimmering like a mirage

Luring the merchant venturers

On a brutal grim and overlong voyage

Treasure laden galleons

Lemons, melons and quince

Strange exotic cargo

Gift and garlands fit for the Prince

And Gloriana rules with a woman's wiles

Plays the coquette with politics and smiles

A computer for a brain in the body of a child

All temper and guile

And the girls on the beach

They are lying out of reach

They rub oil on their skins

And roll in the sand of hated Spain

And the girls in sidewalk bars

Drink their coffee, smoke their cigars

And laugh at the waiting maid

Who covers afraid of the Prince

And Gloriana in stiff starched lace

With pearls in her hair and thunder on her face

Screams with rage: Has God left this place?

There's no God in this place

And the girls on the phone

Ring collect when they call home

And talk inconsequent

Will pass in a moment a thousand miles

And the girls in the airport lounge

Are awaiting the tannoy sound

For the flight to Brazil

With a couple of weeks to kill in the sun

And Gloriana so harsh and chaste

The soldier in her breast is raging at the waste

Of Victories lost and battles left unfaced

For want of such haste

And the girls in high-strapped shoes

With a tan they never lose

Wear the cross of gold

In memory of stories told in Sunday School

And the girls without the Church

Leave their lovers in the church

But seldom sleep alone

And think no more of Rome than a tourist town

And Gloriana sits slumped on the throne

Her head in her hands is weeping alone

Dreaming of the past and times that are gone

Dreams of time to come

And the mariner is sailing

Sailing across the sea

Seeking out the enemy

Bringing spices back home to me

Bring me my scallops shell of quiet

My staff of faith to walk upon

My scrip of joy, immortal diet

My bottle of salvation

My Gown of glory, hopes true gauge

And thus I'll take my pilgrimage