Author // frits_tromp1
Posted in // JournalistFrits

The pale moon rose in its glory
Out on the western town
She told a sad, sad story
Of the great ship that went down

‘Twas the fourteen day of April
Over the waves she rode
Sailing into tomorrow
To a golden age foretold

The night was bright with starlight
The seas were sharp and clear
Moving through the shadows
The promised hour was near

Lights were holding steady
Gliding over the foam
All the lords and ladies
Heading for their eternal home

© Bob Dylan, 2012 Special Rider Music

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