While The Billy BoilsSearchMill Point, Mill Point, Mill Point, in the morning(Dearest, how I’m dreaming, wand’ring lonely London through),When the golden glory from the sweet day’s adorningShone upon your silver sand and wavelets blue.Mill Point, Mill Point, day shall cease to beWhen my heart remembers not all you meant to me!
Mill Point, Mill Point, Mill Point in the noontide;Warm were the wavelets as they lapped your sandy shores.Round the old deserted barge the kissing and the croon tideStole like a lover to the dear one he adores.Mill Point, Mill Point, here in London town,See I once again the barges drowsing up and down.
Mill Point, Mill Point, Mill Point in the yester years,Years before the Boche’s bullet masked my eager eyes,The sweetly sentimental years, the joyous and the jester years,When the river rippled on beneath the smiling skies.Mill Point, Mill Point, never shall I seeWays that we have wandered to our happy trysting tree.
Mill Point, Mill Point, Mill Point in the starlightStill I feel your kisses warm upon my longing lips,When we steered love’s argosy towards the flick’ring far-light,And in my arms you trembled to your tender finger tips.Mill Point, Mill Point, shrine-like is your shore,There our pathways parted, reuniting never more.