LYRIC FOR SALE

By J Douglas & G Barnes

There's a clipper, she lies prowess in the harbour,
Her sails as crisp as all the snow around.
The cold wind blows the trader's tin roof sweetly,
The two dimes in my hand don't make a sound.

They say this clipper is the finest lady
That cuts the ocean's temper like a knife,
The cold wind blows the swinging inn sign tuneful,
But it bites at every breath I take at life.

I'm old, and all I wish is England's passage,
That I can lay to rest in warmer climes,
There's a clipper lying prowess in the harbour
And in my hand I only have two dimes.

I don't think that I could work her ropes to sail me
O'er the sea to rest me in my land
And sleep beneath a stone that's waiting for me,
Where I can hold again my lady's hand.

A quest for gold; I see her at the quayside,
Brave tears she shed as I sailed off that day,
And I think she'll know why I cannot be with her;
That I'm as good as lost in Hudson Bay.

Life is so much harder than they taught me,
They never mentioned sorrow every day,
I'll overlook a lady in the harbour
When they lay me down to rest in Hudson Bay.