The Riddle

*****

I got two strong arms. Blessings of Babylon,

Time to carry on and try for sins and false alarms,

So to America the brave, wise men save.

Near a tree by a river there’s a hole in the ground,

Where an old man of Aran goes around and around,

And his mind is a beacon in the veil of the night,

For a strange kind of fashion there’s a wrong and a right.

And he’ll never, never fight over you.

I got plans for us, nights in the scullery,

And days instead of me,

I only know what to discuss,

Oh, for anything but light,

Wise men fighting over you.

It’s not me you see, pieces of valentine,

And just a song of mine to keep from burning history.

Seasons of gasoline and gold, wise men fold.

Near a tree by a river there’s a hole in the ground,

Where an old man of Aran goes around and around,

And his mind is a beacon in the veil of the night,

For a strange kind of fashion there’s a wrong and a right.

And he’ll never, never fight over you.

I got time to kill. Sly looks in corridors without a plan of yours.

A blackbird sings on bluebird hill.

Thanks to the calling of the wild, wise men’s child.

Near a tree by a river there’s a hole in the ground,

Where an old man of Aran goes around and around,

And his mind is a beacon in the veil of the night,

For a strange kind of fashion there’s a wrong and a right.

And he’ll never, never fight over you.

*****

Very strange and cryptic lyrics, but what do they mean? Many, many people tried to decipher the meaning of the song. Fans, journalists and even linguists were sure they’d discovered its secrets. Kershaw received literally thousands of essays about it, yet he said nothing…until an interview twenty years later, at which time he revealed that the song meant, in fact, nothing at all. He’d intended it to be an instrumental piece, but was urged by others at the recording studio to write lyrics. He simply threw together a collection of random words that rhymed and sounded good. He hadn’t said anything before that time because he didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I think that’s hysterically funny; proof that it doesn’t matter what something is, only what it is perceived to be. 😆