Quarterdeck of the Puckish Heart

[Verse 1]
Puckish grin
Tar on my hands
Stole a kiss
From the shoreline sand
Salt in my beard
Maps in my coat
Your name hidden
In a footnote
[Chorus]
On the quarterdeck of the puckish heart
I swear I’ll sail back home
Then drift apart
Old antiquarian of my own sins
Writing holy lies on weathered skin
On the quarterdeck of the puckish heart
I trade every prayer for a fresh false start
[Verse 2]
You keep relics
Pressed in a book
Rusted keys
And the rings they took
Call it sacred
Call it a joke
I call it gold
Every promise I broke
[Chorus]
On the quarterdeck of the puckish heart
I swear I’ll sail back home
Then drift apart
Old antiquarian of my own sins
Writing holy lies on weathered skin
On the quarterdeck of the puckish heart
I trade every prayer for a fresh false start
[Bridge]
Beatific blues in a tavern glow (hey)
Bless these boots that refuse to go
If I’m cursed to roam
Let the curse be kind
Leave your lamp lit low in the back of my mind
[Chorus]
On the quarterdeck of the puckish heart
I swear I’ll sail back home
Then drift apart
Old antiquarian of my own sins
Writing holy lies on weathered skin
On the quarterdeck of the puckish heart
I trade every prayer for a fresh false start

rock, Dusty folk-rock ballad with a loping shuffle groove, tambourine, and upright bass; verses sit on fingerpicked lute-like guitar and fiddle drones, chorus blooms with stomp-clap energy, harmonium pad, and stacked gang vocals. Male vocals with a sly, story-teller tone; occasional whistle and hand percussion give it a wandering medieval blues feel., medieval, folk rock, folk, blues