The Dutchman

The Dutchman's not the kind of man Who keeps his thumb jammed in the dam That holds his dreams in But that's a secret that only Margaret knows When Amsterdam is golden in the morning Margaret brings him breakfast She believes him He thinks the tulips bloom beneath the snow He's mad as he can be but Margaret only sees that sometimes Sometimes she sees her unborn children in his eyes

The Dutchman still wears wooden shoes His cap and coat are patched with the love That Margaret sewed there Sometimes he thinks he's still in Rotterdam He watches [the] tug boats down canals And calls out to them when he thinks he knows the Captain 'Til [Then] Margaret comes to take him home again Through unforgiving streets That trick him though she holds his arm Sometimes he thinks that he's alone and calls her name

The windmills whirl the winter in She winds his muffler tighter, They sit in the kitchen Some tea with whiskey keeps away the dew He sees her for a moment, calls her name She makes the bed up humming some old love song A song Margaret learned when the tune was very new He hums a line or two, they hum together in the night The Dutchman falls asleep and Margaret blows the candle out.