Tun

Lyrics

Takes four broad backs just to turn the belly
Down the damp planks of the harbor yard.
I drive the lowest hoop down, heavy and steady,
Drawing a white star on the bilge where the sling bites hard.
It’s a whole hillside sleeping in the dark,
A red harvest resting in the oak.
My palms know the exact bevel of the stave by heart,
Without looking through the cooper’s smoke.

And they don’t measure the boat anymore.
They don’t weigh the timber or the sail.
They just look at the cavern of the lower deck floor,
And count up the bellies of ale.
They took our cask and they made it a fleet,
A word for the displacement of the sea.
It holds a whole valley, it warms the whole street,
But it’s rolling right away from me.

We built it to hold the October crush,
A winter’s worth of heat for a cold stone town.
You can hear the liquid throw its heavy weight and rush,
Every time we have to lay the timber down.
The king’s men standing by the loading slip
Don’t smell the sulphur, they only see the space.
They look at the barrel and they price the ship,
Taking the vessel right out of its place.

And they don’t measure the boat anymore.
They don’t weigh the timber or the sail.
They just look at the cavern of the lower deck floor,
And count up the bellies of ale.
They took our cask and they made it a fleet,
A word for the displacement of the sea.
It holds a whole valley, it warms the whole street,
But it’s rolling right away from me.

It was just a wooden room we built for the wine.
A circle of iron, a hammer and a line.
Now it’s admirals shouting in the salt and the spray,
Weighing their warships by the things we made.
The word got too heavy for the yard.
The math is too big for the hand.

Just a white star where the rope bites in.
Four backs pushing in the rain.
They call the iron cannons by our name.
They call the whole ocean by our name.
And leave us the empty frame.