Seven summers it has been since you left me with the snow Seven seasons come and gone while your grandson has grown And he asks me “Ma, when will I be the sailing man I feel in me? When will the ocean be my home?”
What can I say to a tiny sailor bouncing on my knee? How can I tell him the ocean’s taken everything from me? And I reply “Son, when I die, I’ll be the waves crashing by your side, ‘Til that day you must remain at home.”
There’s no doubt that my boy will grow to live at sea The shore holds no love for him, save, of course, for me And though I try to keep him here, I know it’s just a few more years ‘Til the ocean calls my sailor home
And though I try to sway his mind, I know the land will be left behind As soon as your grandson is grown As soon as your grandson is grown…Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
