Oh wretched lonely siren,
Trapped upon your isle,
Guarded by harsh rock,
Held by fate so vile.
How your voice does sound!
And how you sing again!
How your heart does break,
Watching drowning men!
You'll ne'er feel his hand,
Nor taste his sweet hot breath,
For you are ever destined,
To lead him to his death.
Alure him with your voice.
Keep him with your grin.
Reach to him your hand-
Your time is running thin!
Alas! These rocks and wretched fate!
Your lover cannot last.
His boat has hit and run aground,
And he is dying fast.
Oh blissful doom and shapely death!
What a way for him to go!
At least his dying sight was sweet,
At least, your song, he'll know.
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