Moby-Dick™

Leben mit Herman Melville

Fay Away

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Writers are liars, my dear.

Erasmus Fry

Update for the lost Chapter 18½ and Anaxagoras’ Revenge. The song lyrics are free for composition and will bear any style of music, except Country, Western, sextains and related, and the few you don’t like.

On fourth of
March in 1846
the first British
edition of Typee:
A Peep at
Polynesian Life
was
published no more
by the name
of Narrative of
a Four Months’
Residence among the
Natives of a
Valley of the
Marquesas Islands
Melville’s
first whole and
wholesome novel by
John Murray in
filthy foggy faraway
London after the
keeper of truth
and the bereaved
of sailor dreams
added three chapters
to make believe
he lived what
he told and
told what he
lived and you
nevermore my Fayaway

Chorus: girl not only
are you perfect
you are unpretending
too and anyway
a young woman
which excuses everything

assign and withdraw
your crumbs ad
lib until I
I find words
for you that
I used not
to use for
you in a
sunny time and
foreign island not
from me and
not for you
taking your prides
but not all
of them you
have enough maybe
your really are
too good for
writers are liars
my dear which
is a bowl of
rubbish because of
course you are
and the best
with all your
brains and your
adept hands and
your pretty feet
and your significant
arts and your
rewarding skills and
your everything that
looks good which
you would prefer
not to hear
in your close
to shy modesty
strong and beautous
more than Fayaway

Chorus: for not only
are you perfect
you are unpretending
too and anyway
a young woman
which excuses everything

you unfold and
pick and tell
with all your
nature given silence
taboos and live
on what strays
in your heart
just existing along
doing all that
is essential though
nothing that isn’t
so warm and
heating and undesigned
as a white
whale’s chill by
being yourself’s Fayaway

Chorus: since not only
are you perfect
you are unpretending
too and anyway
a young woman
which excuses everything

I desperately sang
to you which
you would not
hear of and
I now am
tired of in
having a bunch
of followers on
the Internet only
obliged to choose
which career to
avail and call
it cultivating your
amity girl you
never will sail
close to Fayaway

Chorus: and not only
are you perfect
you are unpretending
too and anyway
a young woman
which excuses everything

John La Farge, Girl In Bow Of Canoe Spreading Out Her Loin Cloth For A Sail Samoa Aka Fayaway

As I turned the canoe, Fayaway, who was with me, seemed all at once to be struck with some happy idea. With a wild exclamation of delight, she disengaged from her person the ample robe of tappa which was knotted over her shoulder (for the purpose of shielding her from the sun), and spreading it out like a sail, stood erect with upraised arms in the head of the canoe. We American sailors pride ourselves upon our straight, clean spars, but a prettier little mast than Fayaway made was never shipped aboard of any craft.

Herman Melville: Typee, Chapter 18, available from March 4th, 1846.

Image: John La Farge (1835–1919): Girl In Bow Of Canoe Spreading Out Her Loin Cloth For A Sail Samoa Aka Fayaway,
oil on canvas, reproduction via 1st Art Gallery.

Written by Wolf

4. March 2009 at 12:01 am

Posted in Vorderdeck, Wolfs Koje

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