grey funnel line

i don’t mind the rain or the rolling sea,
the weary night never worries me.
but the hardest time in sailor’s day
is to watch the sun as it fades away.
it’s one more day on the grey funnel line.

the finest ship that sailed the sea
is still a prison for the likes of me.
but if i had wings like noah’s dove,
i’d fly up harbor to the one i love.
it’s one more day on the grey funnel line.

there was a time when i was free
like a floating spar on the rolling sea
but now the spar has washed ashore
and come to rest at my true love’s door.
it’s one more day on the grey funnel line.

every time i gaze behind the screws
makes me long for old peter’s shoes
i’d walk right down that silvery lane
and take my love in my arms again.
it’s one more day on the grey funnel line.

oh lord, if dreams were only real,
i’d put my hands on that wooden wheel.
and with all my heart i’d turn her round
and tell the boys we’re homeward bound.
it’s one more day on the grey funnel line.

i’ll pass the time like some machine
until blue water turns to green.
then i’ll dance on down that walk ashore
and sail the grey funnel line no more.
and sail the grey funnel line no more.

~the grey funnel line by cyril tawney

 

 

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