(Intro: Fingerpicked acoustic guitar with a melancholic accordion swell) (Verse 1) Upon the heights of Tattershall, where the ivy chokes the stone My father keeps a watchful eye, and leaves me all alone He fears the way the sailors look, the way the gentry sigh So he’s bound me in a corset of a cold and iron dye Yes, he summoned up the blacksmith with a hammer and a vice To ensure his daughter’s virtue stayed as cold as winter ice. (Chorus) Oh, the latch is made of silver, and the plates are etched in brass And I peer out through the casement as the summer seasons pass But the hinges, oh the hinges, they are rusted shut and tight And I’m locked within this cage of steel throughout the lonely night. (Verse 2) Now William is a tinker’s son, with hands of grease and grit He promised he would find the way to make the tumblers quit He’s searched the dusty library and the cellar’s dampest floor While I’m pacing like a captive bird behind the nursery door He whispered through the keyhole, "Love, I’ve found a skeleton pick" But the metal only groaned and snapped—the lock is far too thick. (Verse 3) My father took the tiny key and threw it to the deep Where the leviathans of Neptune and the giant krakens sleep Or perhaps he hid it in the craw of a starling on the wing Or sewed it in the lining of a dead man’s wedding ring Now William brings his magnets and he brings his jars of oil But the blacksmith’s cruel geometry continues to despoil. (Bridge) (Music builds: Mandolin tremolo and heavy cello) A girdle for a maiden! A penance for a sin! To keep the world without me, and to keep my heart within! He swears he’ll fetch a hacksaw, he swears he’ll bring the flame But if the castle guards should wake, we’ll both be put to shame! (Guitar Solo: Whimsical, slightly dissonant folk melody) (Verse 4) The moon is rising overhead, a pale and sickly eye And William’s weeping in the weeds to hear his lady cry For though our souls are intertwined, our bodies cannot meet Separated by the artisan who labored in the heat So here I sit in iron rags, a bird within a grate The victim of a father’s fear and a locksmith’s heavy fate. (Outro) (Music slows to a single guitar) The key is gone... The key is gone... In the belly of a fish... In the salt of the sea... (Accordion fades out) [End]
