The Song of the Plain White Shell
You could have felt the sea run high,
the tradewinds in your sail,
heard the stormy petrel’s cry,
the love song of the whale.
You could have drunk Jamaican rum,
swapped tales with old Jack Tars,
danced all night to native drums
beneath the southern stars.
You could have heard the harbor bells,
seen dolphins spin and twirl;
you chose the pretty painted shell
and left behind the pearl.
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