The Dutchman

The Dutchman’s not the kind of man
To keep his thumb jammed in the dam
That holds his dreams in,
But that’s a secret that only Margaret knows.
When Amsterdam is golden in the morning,
Margaret brings him breakfast,
She believes him.
He thinks the tulips bloom beneath the snow.
He’s mad as he can be, but Margaret only sees that sometimes,
Sometimes she sees her unborn children in his eyes.
Let us go to the banks of the ocean
Where the walls rise above the Zuider Zee.
Long ago, I used to be a young man
But dear Margaret remembers that for me.
The Dutchman still wears wooden shoes,
His cap and coat are patched with the love
That Margaret sewed there.
Sometimes he thinks he’s still in Rotterdam.
He watches the tug-boats down canals
And calls out to them when he thinks he knows the Captain.
Till Margaret comes
To take him home again
Through unforgiving streets that trip him, though she holds his arm,
Sometimes he thinks he’s alone and he calls her name.
Let us go to the banks of the ocean
Where the walls rise above the Zuiderzee.
Long ago, I used to be a young man
But dear Margaret remembers that for me.
The windmills whirl the winter in She winds his muffler tighter
And they sit in the kitchen.
Some tea with whiskey keeps away the dew.
He sees her for a moment, calls her name,
She makes his bed up singing some old love song,
She learned it when the tune was very new.
He hums a line or two, they hum together in the dark.
The Dutchman falls asleep and Margaret blows the candle out.
Let us go to the banks of the ocean
Where the walls rise above the Zuiderzee.
Long ago, I used to be a young man
But dear Margaret remembers that for me.