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This is a Sarah Cobb-Clark original.
To the dark straits of Scylla (SI-luh) I once chose to roam
Sailing through waters the sirens called home
And sure through the ocean’s bright glistening foam
The temptress’ voices came calling.
I thought I was safe from the depths of the brine
For lust have I not, though the form be divine
But then came such promises so rich and fine
That instantly my nerve went falling…
Garlic bread, garlic bread,
The treat that will send you to your watery bed
No woman will tempt you and no man will you wed,
But you’ll face your death o’er some garlic bread.
While most went to madness for the sea maid’s fair form
My heart was more tempted by a treat soft and warm
For butter and garlic I’d weather such storm
That the siren’s reputation threatened.
I reached for the helm and I turned to the shore
Where waited the sirens—what seemed like a score
And as the waves round me caused my boat to soar
The tempting music still beckoned:
Garlic bread, garlic bread,
The treat that will send you to your watery bed
No woman will tempt you and no man will you wed,
But you’ll face your death o’er some garlic bread.
The bow struck the rocks and the boat it did sink
Soon I found myself all alone in the drink
And then far too late I started to think
That pride comes before your destruction
For lust or for knowledge or food or for gold
We all have our vice that will cause us to fold
The sirens will tempt you, as you have been told
And you cannot escape their seduction:
Garlic bread, garlic bread,
The treat that will send you to your watery bed
No woman will tempt you and no man will you wed,
But you’ll face your death o’er some garlic bread.
