"In three days we leave to battle Troy."
I wish those words were never born
For every minute of those three days;
I spent it all in dreary mourn.
Dreading the day I had to go,
For to part with Ithaca, and my wife
Was more than I could bear.
Here is my home, my life.
My wife, given birth just recently,
Was devastated that I had to go.
For she said to me with fear in her eyes,
"You're son you will never get to know.
"He will grow up not knowing his father,
No one to teach him the ways of the throne."
"I am desperately sorry," said I,
"I wish sooner I had known."
"And what if you don't return?"
she added, her cheeks now streaming wet.
"Then you must marry another," I said.
"When our son is a man, but not yet."
"But I do not wish another to marry."
She argued. "For you are the one I love."
"Trust me, it's better this way," I said,
"You'll always be my little dove."
So I took my fleet and sailed
On that dreaded farewell day.
I took my fleet and sailed
Away, away, away.