Teresa, my big Caribbean woman had a little house
on the island of Curacao;
served me trotters in curry sauce and much more
of which I’m not going to tell
because I ain’t the kiss and tell type.

In the morning we drove to the beach in her old truck and
while she sat under a parasol I swam in lazy swells;
didn’t really enjoy it, only to show off,
as I have a great fear of sharks.

Drank cold beer and when the sun got too hot
we drove back to her little house!
And well, as I said, I’m a gentleman.
We slept too and waited for
the cooling evening breeze.

I left, when my ship came in
and we corresponded for a time,
but since none of us were great letter writes
it sort of petered out.
It took five years before we met,
but then ale had taken its toll on both of us.

Layers of life had dulled our pleasure,
we both drank too much,
and she cried her sadness at the loss of our youthful love.
I left just before the breath of dawn blessed this island!.
And melancholy was born