Kagan and his Silkie-Wife

Kagan and his Silkie-Wife

Re-told by Evelyn Rainey

(I was at OKon in 1984 when I heard this song during a filksing.  I only remembered the refrain and have never been able to find it again.  So I re-told it as best I could and added a whole lot more and left out the part where Kagan battled the Sea-god.)

Kagan was a fisherman

And Kagan loved the sea,

But Kagan was lonely,

So he turned his back on the sea

And became a farmer,

Surrounded by land.

And Kagan was lonelier still.

Kagan met a woman,

Whose eyes were brown as fresh-baked bread,

Whose lips were full of laughter,

And Kagan lost his heart to her

And took her as his wife.

They lived surrounded by land,

But Kagan was lonely for the sea.

His wife sang:

Kagan, Kagan, Kagan,

Don’t ye go to sea,

For the Earth is rich and yields to thee

And ah – that I don’t miss the sea.

But Kagan was her husband,

And she was his wife,

So they returned to his cottage.

Every morning she would walk him to the wharf

And wave good-by.

Every evening she would wait for his return.

And she trembled for the nearness of the sea.

She would sing:

Kagan, Kagan Kagan,

Turn the dory home

For the waves do dance, and winds do blow

And ah – these breakers call to me.

And Kagan would hear her song

Even miles away,

And he would turn back home to her side.

Kagan’s wife was good and kind,

But the townspeople knew what she was.

She was a Silkie –

Born as a seal in the sea,

Living as a human on the land,

For a year, or a decade, or a century.

But with one splash of the sea against her skin,

She would become a seal once more,

Never to be human again for the rest of her life.

And the townspeople loved her all the more,

As she stood on the wharf and sang:

Kagan, Kagan Kagan,

Turn the dory home

For the waves do dance and winds do blow

And ah – these breakers call to me.

And Kagan would hear her song

Even miles away,

And he would turn back home to her side.

Winter came, as winter always does.

And Kagan went out to fish.

His wife begged him not to,

For she knew the wind,

And the winter, and the sea.

But he was a fisherman,

And the sea was waiting for him.

When dusk fell, Kagan did not return.

And she cried:

Kagan, Kagan Kagan,

Turn the dory home

For the winter wind and ice do come,

And ah – that I do fear for thee.

He heard her song

From miles away,

But he could not fight the wind.

The wind licked ice along the wood of his dory.

The wind stripped him of all warmth.

And he raged against the wind.

But the wind did not hear him

Kagan sank to the bottom

Of his dory to sleep – forever.

And she knew the wind had won,

But she sang again:

Kagan, Kagan Kagan,

Turn the dory home

For the winter wind and ice do come,

And ah – that I do fear for me.

And then she slipped into the sea.

She swam with a seal’s sureness

And found his dory,

And sank her seal-teeth into the rope,

And dragged Kagan’s dory

Toward shore.

And she sang:

Humans, Humans, Humans,

Come and take him home,

For Kagan and the wind did fight,

And I his wife may never be.

The townspeople heard and came

And carried Kagan into his empty cottage.

And Kagan’s silkie-wife swam south,

Where the waters are warm.

And sometimes, late in the day,

When Kagan was old and tired,

He could still hear her sing:

Kagan, Kagan Kagan,

Turn the dory home

For the waves do dance, and winds do blow,

And I will always love thee.

And I will always love thee.

ejr