And so we reached the final day
Of our quaint, Cornish, coastal stay
The week’s been wonderful for weather
But time has flown; we could not tether
Nor tie it down; it seeped like sands
Through fingers of our aging hands
The tide of trust, each day returning
Turned traitor; sold us out by turning
So now we sit on Smeaton’s Pier
Sup our last glass of cider here
Before we leave behind the beaches
For land, as far as railway reaches
Return, via Taunton, to the Peaks
Like Ulysses and ancient Greeks
Returning home to weary warring
Leave waves behind like Trojans roaring
And now we’ll sing with sorrow’s song
Our dream we dreamt down Downalong
Till time and tide moves on, and mercy
Denied to poet Shelley: Percy!
Makes way for us by road or rail
Or ship, with St. Ives on the sail
To go once more to land of magic
Where mermaids, unlike sirens tragic
Will welcome us with open arms
Enchant us with their Cornish charms
When we at last have done with roaming
And like the pigeons bred for homing
Will wing our way like seagulls gliding
Sink in the sea, with seaweed hiding
Then wash up like two shells on shore
To stay in St. Ives evermore!