Original poem
by C. Fox Smith

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Mariquita

Poem by C. Fox Smith, FULL SAIL, pp. 108-110 1926
Adapted and musically arranged by Charlie Ipcar 2004

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Old Man Time done wrote his log up in the wrinkles of my brow,
And there ain't that much about me as a girl would take to now;
For I've changed beyond all knowing from the man I used to be,
But I remember Mariquita who was mighty fond of me!

mariquita.jpg - 29070 Bytes I can close my eyes and see it, just as plain as yesterday;
See the harbour and the mountains, the shipping in the bay,
And the town that looked like heaven to us shellbacks fresh from sea,
And I remember Mariquita who thought a deal of me!

I can hear the chiming mule-bells and a stave of Spanish song,
And the blessed old guitarros, tinkling all night long;
Hear the dusty palm trees stirring, taste the vino flat and sour,
And I remember Mariquita with her white skirts like a flower!

It's years now since I've seen her; if she's died I never knew,
Or got old and fat and ornery, as some young sweethearts do;
And me pals have changed as well now, from the men they used to be,
When I first met Mariquita on the quayside by the sea!

I think 'tis better that way for there's nothing left but change;
With the ships I knew laid up or lost, and the ports I knew grown strange,
Though I've changed beyond all knowing from the man I used to be,
I remember Mariquita and she's always young to me!
I remember Mariquita and she's always young to me!

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MARIQUITA

Original Poem by C. Fox Smith,
from the book Full Sail, pp. 108-110 1926

Old man Time, 'e's wrote his log up in the wrinkles on my brow,
And there ain't that much about me as a girl 'ud take to now;
For I've changed beyond all knowing from the chap I used to be,
When I can remember Mariquita, as was mighty fond o' me!

I can shut my eyes and see it just as plain as yesterday,
See the harbour and the mountains and the shipping in the bay,
And the town as looked like heaven to us shellbacks fresh from sea
And I can remember Mariquita, as thought a deal o' me!

I can hear the chiming mule-bells, and a stave o' Spanish song,
And the blessed old guitarros as kep' tinkling all night long;
Hear the dusty palm trees stirring, taste the vino flat and sour,
And I can remember Mariquita, and her white skirts like a flower.

But it's years now since I've seen her, if she's died I never knew,
Or got old and fat and ugly, same as Dagoes mostly do;
And it's maybe better that way, for there's nothing left but change,
And the ships I knew all going, and the ports I knew grown strange,
And the chaps I knew all altered, like the chap I used to be,
But I can remember Mariquita, and she's always young for me.

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