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It's the North Devon winters |
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That drive us all to sea |
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To the cold banks, searching for the shoals |
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I am a week away from Father |
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And the nets are drifting free |
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Still empty, and there's nothing in our hold |
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So we turn to the north for the last time |
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It's one more hope, then we'll head for home |
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Four hours up on deck, then four hours down below |
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Thinking of you, waking all alone |
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Seven days and seven hours have passed |
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Since we said goodbye beside the old sea wall |
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And every sunrise, every sunset |
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I dream of you over the orange ocean and I pray |
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And as I wait I remember your gentle touch and your face |
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And I miss you, and I love you |
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Where are you, love? Are you out there in the night? |
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Think of me. The waiting fire still burns |
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Where are you, love? It's the early morning light |
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That wakes me. When will you return? |
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I am deep in the heart |
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Of a storm-rolling sea |
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A hundred miles from safety on the shore |
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But lost in your arms, that's where I should be |
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Rescue me, let us sail no more |
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Where are you, love? Are you out there in the night? |
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Think of me. The waiting fire still burns. |
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Where are you, love? It's the early morning light |
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That takes me, on a rising tide |
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And breaks me, by the waterside |
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That wakes me, as the waves collide, |
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When will you return? |
