Selkie Lyrics by Kiki Rockwell
Your nets will all tear and your catches will fail
Your ship will take water and thunderin’ hail
You’ll come home with nothing no prize pelt to claim
No whaler man’s hero, no big village fame
For I am the selkie upon your black coast
Whose virginal hide you do not get to boast
Yes I am the old one of Alba’s seas
Older than the castle, the beast and the trees
Selkie, selkie, come to me
I would like to own the sea
Human, human, you’re insane
We don’t even own our names
My kinfolk have warned me to stay in the deep
For human man sees us as something to keep
But lo he is gentle, and lo he is kind
Tall, dark and dashing in silks so fine
He comes to the cliff edge, he’s waving a gun
And falls to his knees, reeling, reeking of rum
O I can smell sorrow, and I can smell fear
I go against nature and I swim near
Selkie, selkie, where’s your pelt?
I would like it on my belt
Human, human, you’re a fool
Chum mi e bho na fir sa chùil
The young man recoils with a hammering heart
As thick oily coat and my milk white skin part
Standing before him now, naked and wild
The northern wind biting yet both so beguiled
Now I dine beside him in finely stitched gowns
His Queen of the county in bright hammered crown
The people congratulate, “Such a fine catch!
Oh we cannot wait to see what she might hatch”
Selkie, selkie, come to me
I would like to own the sea
Human, human, you’re insane
We don’t even own our names
Chum mi e bho na fir sa chùil
Chum mi e bho na fir sa chùil
With every day passing, I remember less
My darling consoles me, “Dear it’s for the best!”
But where is my seal skin, you’d hide it from me?
You dare try erasing the blood of the sea?
For I may be nameless but I sure have kin
Who’ll sense what you’ve done and will sniff out your sin
They’ll come in their dozens on fin and dark foam
Slippin’ into bodies to track down your home
You think that your driftwood fence won’t bow nor bend
As if that could stop them once they’ve got your scent
And you built your mansion right down on the sand
The seal folk will enter and tie up your hands
Your people will hunger, your harpoons will sink
You’ll turn me loose then you’ll turn to the drink
For I am the old one of Alba’s shores
Older than the forest, the peat bog, the moors
