| Don’t mind the rain or the rolling sea
|
| The weary night never worries me
|
| But the hardest time in sailor’s day
|
| Is to watch the sun as it dies away
|
| It’s one more day on the Grey Funnel Line
|
| The finest ship that sailed the sea
|
| Is still a prison for the likes of me
|
| But give me wings like Noah’s dove
|
| I’d fly up harbour to the girl I love
|
| It’s one more day on the Grey Funnel Line
|
| There was a time my heart was free
|
| Like a floating spar on the open sea
|
| But now the spar is washed ashore
|
| It comes to rest at my real love’s door
|
| It’s one more day on the Grey Funnel Line
|
| Every time I gaze behind the screws
|
| Makes me long for old Peter’s shoes
|
| I’d walk right down that silver lane
|
| And take my love in my arms again
|
| It’s one more day on the Grey Funnel Line
|
| Oh Lord, if dreams were only real
|
| I’d have my hands on that wooden wheel
|
| And with all my heart I’d turn her round
|
| And tell the boys that we’re homeward bound
|
| It’s one more day on the Grey Funnel Line
|
| I’ll pass the time like some machine
|
| Until blue water turns to green
|
| Then I’ll dance on down that walk ashore
|
| And sail the Grey Funnel Line no more
|
| And sail the Grey Funnel Line no more |