Mytalene's Reprieve Words and music by Zeke HoskinMytalene's leaders lay chained in Athens' prison While Cleon told the council, "Their death is not enough. If a country pardons treason the gods will send them traitors Athens' vengance shall be written in blood and not in bluff. I love a traitor when he's dead and can't rebel again Tell the army holding Lesbos to massacre their men." A trireme was dispatched to command the executions But Theoditus still argued the case for a reprieve. "No foe will dare surrender if he has no hope of mercy." And while he spoke companions got a trireme set to leave. At last the hands were shown and the decision was reversed. And the ship with the reprieve set out one day behind the first. So row for Lesbos, row my heros, row! Three hundred miles of rocky seas to go. So bend your backs till you burst your hearts The ship of death has a whole day's start. Nine thousand heads ride on your shoulders Row my heros, row! Three men to an oar, that's the way you crew a trireme Row a shift and rest for two and that's a brutal load. But two men pulled at every sweep throughout that race with slaughter While the third fed cakes and honey to his oarmates as they rowed. They rowed as if they thought their task was possible to do One day to row a distance that had always taken two. So row for Lesbos, row my heros, row! Three hundred miles of rocky seas to go. So bend your backs till you burst your hearts The ship of death has a whole day's start. Nine thousand heads ride on your shoulders Row my heros, row! When good men do their utmost their grasp can compass wonders But miracles are for the gods, they're not in mortal power. Their quarry had a whole day's lead and nearly equal oarsmen Though they strove to catch that ship of death they failed, by half an hour. The order was delivered and the slaughter was prepared Then a ship raced, yelling, from the sea. Mytalene was spared! So row for Lesbos, row my heros, row! Three hundred miles of rocky seas to go. So bend your backs till you burst your hearts The ship of death has a whole day's start. Nine thousand heads ride on your shoulders Row my heros, row! Now the Athens-Lesbos ferry is a roaring fuming diesel. It's stinking smoke befouls the sky, it's fuel slimes the sea. While camera laden tourists loll to amplified bouzokis It thunders down the sea roads where the triremes used to be. It rides in stench and clamor that the gods would not believe, And it's ONE HOUR FASTER than Mytalene's Reprieve. So row for Lesbos, row my heros, row! Three hundred miles of rocky seas to go. So bend your backs till you burst your hearts The ship of death has a whole day's start. Nine thousand heads ride on your shoulders Row my heros, row!