| If I am too weary put me aside
|
| The years break their silence written in salt
|
| Forgotten in spaces left at high mark
|
| But duty-bound vigil saves hope that survives
|
| And carries it willingly on the white tide
|
| Little hell, little hell, little hell
|
| Little hell, little hell, little hell
|
| Little hell, little hell, little hell
|
| The waves tap their fingers there’s no need to shout
|
| They’re pushing and pulling on the way out
|
| Too fearsome no captain can say where they’re bound
|
| He’ll swim if he has to as they roll to ground
|
| But he rides the fury with no land in sight
|
| Holds true to the spirit and braves the white tide
|
| Little hell, little hell, little hell
|
| Little hell, little hell, little hell
|
| Little hell, little hell, little hell
|
| If I have forsaken put me aside
|
| Or set me to drifting on the white tide
|
| Little hell, little hell, little hell
|
| Little hell, little hell, little hell
|
| Little hell, little hell, little hell |