Ask Not Why The Wind Blows

Ask Not Why The Wind Blows

Speak not of the wind

Or where it blows.

It roars when it chooses,

Rattling rooftops,

Shaking the trees.

Speak not of the wind

It blows not to please.

Dark Davey, down in the deep

The tormented sailor soul

Who dared not whisper when the wind blew

A gift from the savage gales

In Davey’s dark locker are bound

Eternally damned, never at ease.

Whispering summer breezes

The names of the loved ones

Are called and caressed

On tortured zephyrs come

The Sirens of the dead

Teasing the living,