The run for the docks in the black early hours
Collar pulled tight, hat pulled down low
Alcohol fades as desperation sets in
The run for the last boat home
No I can’t miss the last boat home

No I can’t face a night on the cold harbour floor
Beneath a thoughtless sky, just the gulls and I
But pulling up breathless I settle my eyes
On the heartbreaking sight of the gib on the rise

Missing the last boat home

Deprived of the hand-knitted warmth of our bed
The tightly-wrapped scarf of your arms
Oh for my frost-bitten fingers to be tucked in your waistband
I wish I was on my way home
I’m soaked and I’m chilled to the bone

Over the sea there’s a light shines for me
And under the sheets my lover so sweet
But in the dock of the bay I’m so cold I could weep
Stop whistling Otis I’m trying to sleep

Missing the last boat home

Oh it’s only the sea that keeps you from me
It’s fathoms and leagues, fish, salt and weeds
Unswimmable sliver of black salty brine
Unbridgeable void that keeps me from mine
There is no place on Earth I would much rather be
Than back on my island, my home, my sanctuary