While The Billy BoilsSearchThere’s a light out there in the nearer east
In the dawn of Nineteen Nine;
There’s the old ghost light in the salty yeast
Where the black rocks meet the brine.
Here’s the same old strife and toil in vain—
Here’s the same old hope and doubt—
Here’s the same old useless care and pain—
And the sea is my way out—
My dear—
The sea is my way out.
’Tis a grey and a sad old sea for me—
With a growing grey head too.
Oh, the heads were brown and the eyes were bright
When the sea was white and blue.
It was round the world and home again,
We could turn and turn about,
And the sea means exile now in vain,
But the sea is my way out—
My dear—
The sea is my way out.