| Georges:
|
| Do you recall that windy little beach
|
| We walked along?
|
| That afternoon in Fall
|
| That afternoon we met?
|
| A fellow with a concertina sang
|
| What was the song?
|
| It’s strange what we recall
|
| And odd what we forget…
|
| I heard
|
| La da da da da da da
|
| As we walked on the sand
|
| I heard
|
| La da da da da da da
|
| I believe it was early September
|
| Though the crash of the weaves
|
| I could tell that the words were romantic;
|
| Something about sharing
|
| Something about always
|
| Though the years race along
|
| I still think of our song on the sand
|
| And I still try and search for the words
|
| I can barely remember
|
| Though the time tumbles by
|
| There is one thing that I am forever
|
| Certain of
|
| I hear
|
| La da da da da da da
|
| Da da da da da da
|
| And I’m young and in love
|
| I believe it was early September
|
| Though the crash of the weaves
|
| I could tell that the words were romantic;
|
| Something about sharing
|
| Something about always
|
| Though the years race along
|
| I still think of our song on the sand
|
| And I still try and search for the words
|
| I can barely remember
|
| Though the time tumbles by
|
| There is one thing that I am forever
|
| Certain of
|
| I hear
|
| La da da da da da da
|
| Da da da da da da
|
| And I’m young and in love… |