Queequeg's lament.

Blisken signed a check.

I have enough dough now for six months.

So, keyboard in my lap, I sang him something I'm still working on..."Queequeg's Lament."

QUEEQUEG:                         The bones have foretold

                                                That I will not grow old,

                                                That I’ll perish right here,

                                                On the sea.

                                                The gods have decreed,

                                                Their will I must heed,

                                                That I’ll perish right here,

                                                On the sea.

                                                So silent I sit,

                                                I cannot fight it,

                                                I’ll perish right here,

                                                On the sea.

                                                Yes, my death’s in the offin’,

                                                Carpenter, build me a coffin!

                                                A strong wooden box

                                                For my home.

                                                Make it long as a river,

                                                So it will deliver,

                                                My soul to the Kingdom

                                                Of god.

                       

                                                Make it wide like Gibraltar,

                                                And strong like an Altar,

                                                A strong wooden box

                                                For my home.

THE CREW:                           Oh!

                                                Carry him off in

                                                A custom-made coffin,

                                                For Queequeg’s fortold

                                                He must die.

                                                Make it strong, make it stout,

                                                No man can get out,

                                                When he has foretold

                                                He must die.

QUEEQUEG:                         There’s no use resisting,

                                                The gods are insisting,

                                                They’ve summoned this pagan

                                                To die.

                                                They’ve torn me asunder

                                                I’ll die there down under,

                                                Under the spell

                                                Of the sea.