The Old Woman and The Sea
(The ballad of Aunt Esther)
By Paul Batten, completed August 8th, 2026

Esther had a pretty face, but fate was cruel and cold,
And gave to her a twisted hip, with which she would grow old.
She grew up shy, by cruel words hurt, her gait a laboured sway,
No hope for love like others had, the boys all turned away.

Each day she goes down to the sea, down to the sea, to see.
With careful taps of cane on stone, she carries on alone, alone. She carries on alone.

Then came Tom with gentle eyes upon her pretty face,
Her hair piled high, as it always was, her collar made of lace.
He saw not the tragic hip, but her beauty and her soul.
He fell in love with the girl so slight, and her spirit became whole.

Thomas took her trembling hand and asked that they should wed
Great joy bloomed large in two young hearts and soon the vows were said.
A happy couple they did make, although of meagre means,
She with husband, he with wife, fulfilment of their dreams.

Each day she goes down to the sea, down to the sea, to see.
With careful taps of cane on stone, she carries on alone, alone. She carries on alone.

One cold March Day he said to her, “I’ve offered up my name,
To join the crew of the Southern Cross, and many did the same.”
If he was lucky, a chosen one, the hunt could mean great prize,
But she said naught, as hope and fear, dueled in her dark eyes.”

Fate shone on Tom as he found his name was listed in the crew,
A great day for the Bussey boys as Joe and Alf’s were too.
Loved ones gathered on the docks, excitement filled the air
With clergy blessing every ship and offering solemn prayer
For safe return of fathers, husbands, sons and beaus
As they did, every year.

The time to part, it came too soon, with whispered words of love
Alone they were, on crowded pier, and Tom removed a glove.
He passed to her his lacquered ring, a keepsake just in case
Then from the deck his eyes held hers, across the widening space.

The ship made haste towards the ice as sky and sea were blue
Men cheered to be the first boat there as a bonus could be due.
By end of day her holds were filled, the heavy ship was low.
Growing waves broke o’er her bow as the captain turned for home.

A cold night fell as the storm blew in, jubilation turned to fear.
An angry sea swept across her decks and washed away her gear.
The Southern Cross disappeared that night, Davey Jones he took her down
No ship, no seals, no sailors’ souls, no Tom was ever found.

That ship went down into the sea, into the sea, went she.
With howling wind and driven snow, into the depths did go, did go, Into the depths did go.

To Esther fate again turned cruel and left her so forlorn
First shock then grief and sadness with no body to be mourned
Some comfort from the other wives, much sorrow and much dread
Each night to darkened rooms returned to cold and empty beds.

Each day she goes down to the sea, down to the sea, to see.
With careful taps of cane on stone, she carries on alone, alone. She carries on alone.

Some years went by, a widow’s life, when she met an older man
Will Morgan was a quiet soul, to her he was just grand
He’d known great loss, both wife and child were taken by the flu.
But Esther gave him back his smile, as new love’s sure to do.

They made their life in a little house that had been floated ‘cross the bay,
The laughter of two daughters soon was heard there every day.
Contented years did come and go, their daughters became brides
Grandchildren filled up old Will’s heart, ‘ere he crossed the great divide.

Esther lived on many years in that house down by the sea
Tea with friends, sweets for the kids that kept her company
Peppermints, in hanky kept, rolled up within a sleeve
A reward awaiting anyone, who might do her a good deed.

Each day she goes down to the sea, down to the sea, to see.
With careful taps of cane on stone, she carries on alone, alone. She carries on alone.

“I’m going down the beach for wood”, to all she would announce
Though grandsons kept the wood box filled, beside her little house.
But she’d pass by the driftwood there, washed up the day before
With lingering stare across the sea, far out from rocky shore.

After she passed, loved ones were sent for relics held so dear,
Distant waves and ticking clock, was all that one could hear.
A rocking chair, no longer stirred, sat in familiar space.
An old black cane, on two hooks hung, above the fireplace.

That cane was stained as black as night, with yellow showing through
Where life had worn the stain away, knots glowed a golden hue.
There, wedged above the lowest knot, close to the well-worn tip
Was a lacquered ring, with tarnished T, that went not on that ship.

No need to go down to the sea, down to the sea, to see.
She now walks straight with normal gait, in perfect company, in perfect company.