Russian Hill

To the east we made our bargain
Followed Bering
America impressed
The Spanish with their gold
Built their missions on the headlands
To the ghosts they brought from Mexico
There were fires up there in the old days
The Spanish blamed them on the Indians, I was told
We sailed in '67
A thousand miles from Voronezh
Fifteen souls bound for San Francisco

The old men watched us turn toward Aleutia
Their faces in the sun
Cold Alaskan snow
Only if you're old and lucky, you know
Through the ice, and the waves as high as towers
Black as night, till the sky was torn apart
There I saw Elias
My father said these giants
Point the way to San Francisco

Ten years we were a-sealin'
Till the last time out
Half the boys came down
The English carved their names
To Spanish incantations
We set our sail for home
Left their ghosts to the Spanish and their missions
Haunt the headlands for a thousand years or more
We sailed in '67
Came back home in '81
Seven souls we left in San Francisco


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