A Scillonian Prayer:
“We pray thee O Lord, not that wrecks should happen
But if any wrecks should happen
Thou wilt guide them to the Scilly Isles
For the benefit of the poor inhabitants.”
This is a folk song or rather the lyrics of a folk song…or maybe a poem with a chorus. On a visit to the Isles of Scilly, I was walking the perimeter of St Mary’s, the largest island, when I arrived at Porth Hellick beach where I discovered the following story…of a lost ring, a famous admiral washed ashore from a shipwreck and a contrite woman.
A FINE EMERALD RING
I sent my girl off to St Mary’s church
For to fetch to my bedside the priest.
As knowing I am not long for this world;
With my Maker I need to seek peace.
Father, for my soul’s sake, unburden me.
It’s been some thirty years I’ve seen pass
Since I did commit a terrible sin
Which I need you to hear me confess.
I have in my keeping a tragic prize
An infamous and sought-after thing.
There in her hands was an old wooden box
Which held naught but an emerald ring.
CHORUS
Green, the colour of his fine emerald ring;
As green as the envy that burned in my eyes.
Why should his like, have that sort of thing;
When for their lack a child of mine dies?
It was on a damp, cold October morn
That the Lord took my two-year-old son.
And me in need of solace and succour
Sought out the cliffs to find myself some.
The peace and quiet that I so desired
It seemed to be so far from my reach.
As wreckers picked at the washed up remains
Of some poor souls found on Hellick beach.
Others came running to get what they could;
All but my own were there on the strand.
I climbed over rocks to find my heartsease
And that’s when I saw his outstretched hand.
CHORUS
Green, the colour of his fine emerald ring
As green as the envy that burned in my eyes
Why should his like have that sort of thing?
When for their lack a child of mine dies
I passed two young boys spread out on the sand
As dead as meat in a mutton pie.
An emerald ring is no recompense
When you’ve just watched your poor infant die.
So, I reached for that hand and cursed my luck
As his breath raised bubbles in the brine;
For wreckers cannot rob a living man.
But did God not take a life of mine?
As weak as the babe who I could not feed,
I lay on him in that silent place.
When no struggle came, I motioned his head
So the tide would soon cover his face.
CHORUS
Green, the colour of his fine emerald ring
As green as the envy that burned in my eyes
Why should his like, have that sort of thing?
When for their lack a child of mine dies
The value alone that this ring possessed
For such as me, a lifetime of wealth.
Imagine how good a table I’d keep
And my children thrive in better health.
How I wrestled the conflict within me;
To sin or suffer in penury?
A more desperate fight than he could raise
To save his life or jewellery
Broke free of the sea upon Hellick shore
Should I be the one the Lord indicts?
It came up the beach to finish the job
I just helped it claim its wreckers’ rights.
CHORUS
Green, the colour of his fine emerald ring;
As green as the envy that burned in my eyes.
Why should his like have that sort of thing,
When for their lack, a child of mine dies?
Good Admiral, I crave your forgiveness
‘Twas not the sea that left you for dead
But the desperation and poverty
Of a wretched Scillonian maid.
Maybe God, will pardon me for my sin?
That ring has brought nothing but sorrow.
Father, I beg, intercede for me please
For my place in heaven tomorrow.
The zealous search to recover this ring
Made it a burden throughout my life.
Stuck in a box until my dying day;
Give it back to the Admiral’s wife.
CHORUS
Green, the colour of his fine emerald ring
As green as the envy that burned in my eyes
Why should his like, have that sort of thing?
When for their lack a child of mine dies
Why should his like, have that sort of thing?
When for their lack a child of mine dies.
