Cold February and all is not well* There's few will sleep easy this night Down on the dockside, grim silent men standing Under the pale yellow light There's scarcely a murmur and laughter there's none Of whispering there's barely a sound For their thoughts are away, down there in the bay Where it's said that the Lairdsfield is down
Bleak February a cruel bitter wind Stirs up the black grimy foam Out there on the sea is no place to be Far better by the fireside and warm But not for the sailor the soft easy chair He's out there earning his bread But tonight there are ten who'll work never again Counted among the drowned dead
Dark February a few flakes of snow Drift over bowed heads on the stray By the breakwater side and along by the Gare They wait for the first streaks of day And over the sand-dunes and over the bar See a few feet of keel nothing more Held fast in the sand with all of her hands Barely two miles from the shore
Sad February and all is not well There's few will sleep easy this night Down at the dockside, grim silent men standing Under the pale yellow light For down there at Teesmouth The Lairdsfield is drowned And with her every man of her crew Ten men who'll not see the springtime again Nor yet see the cold winter throughTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
