The tides that know no purpose,
their ebb and their flow,
they bring to my remembrance
old men I used to know
old men I used to know
who left their punts on Lympstone's Hard,
two anchors to the bow,
and wandered home in seaboots.
- I do not see them now.
The tides that know no purpose,
- I do not see them now.
The tides that know no purpose,
their fall and their make,
they bring to my remembrance
they bring to my remembrance
fine boats in Lympstone Lake,
the skippers and the crewmen,
their dignities and pride,
their dignities and pride,
all washed away - as we shall be
this or another tide.
this or another tide.
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