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La lune

de Mark Fry

Roses for Columbus
He's found another land
Oysters from the children
Fall between their hands

Roses for Columbus
Who sleeps on virgin sands
Flowers from the children
Fall between their hands

He lies upon the ocre sands
And tells them what he saw
To his health they drink his eastern rum
And dance upon the shore
And when there's silence
And only the ocean sound
He gently turns his bearded head
You know the worlds is round

Fingers full of eastern rings
Pockets full of gold
Open up his yellow map
You'll find another fold

Roses for Columbus
Who sails with silk and lace
Behind unknown horizons
He'll find another face

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