Old Ferry Lane

There's a bend in the river

Beyond my garden wall -

Collects the dreams, the broken dreams

From the bridge away upstream.

Where the swallow divers

With their broken hearts

Wash up at Ferry Lane,

Where the Pilgrims crossed.

Now the only ones

Are the ever lost.

When the tide goes out

Their pain remains,

Lapping soft

In old Ferry Lane.

There's a sound from the river

Calls me when I'm in bed.

I hear the willows, the weeping willows

In the pillow beneath my head.

All the tears and anger

And the sunken hopes

Wash up at Ferry Lane,

Where the churchyard waits

Ever patiently

For the names and dates.

When the tide goes out

Their songs remain,

Calling me

To old Ferry Lane.