Hunt That Beast

The frigate cuts along the county line.
The blacktop parts like quiet winter brine.
The streetlamps flicker six feet overhead.
We take the soundings by the bakery sign.

The creature sleeps beneath the schoolhouse lawn.
You hear its ribs against the cellar floor.
The captain logged the drift at four o'clock.
He pinned his charts against the mayor's door.

Don't let your captain hunt that beast.
It drinks the well and leaves the basin dry.
Don't let your captain hunt that beast.
You cannot drown beneath an open sky.

We threw the cable from the starboard rail.
It pulled the church steps twenty feet away.
The captain called for twenty fathom more.
He said we'd land it before break of day.

Don't let your captain hunt that beast.
It drinks the well and leaves the basin dry.
Don't let your captain hunt that beast.
You cannot drown beneath an open sky.

The postman passed us in his blue sedan.
He blew his horn and gave a friendly nod.
The captain never took his goggles off.
He kept his eye upon the turning sod.

The iron struck the water main at dawn.
A gray geyser rose ninety cubits tall.
The creature took the windlass and the wire.
It hauled the bowsprit through the garden wall.

Don't let your captain hunt that beast.
It drinks the well and leaves the basin dry.
Don't let your captain hunt that beast.
You cannot drown beneath an open sky.

We're drifting past the parson's breakfast plate.
The keel is dragging on linoleum now.
He tells the crew to keep our stations manned.
The morning sun is burning on the plow.