On the boats,
the old and creaky boats,
The shoreline goes gliding by,
And the wind,
there was a dying breeze,
Is making the banners fly.
See the colors,
floating in the sky,
The pride of the captain's eye,
As he glides
His slender craft inside
And opens up the door.
On the coast,
the long and tempting coast,
The cards on the table lie,
And a speech,
so eloquent in reach,
Was made by a passerby,
Passing by the way between
Here and left behind.
And it ripples through the crowds
Who run and cast their doubts
In the deep forbidden lake.
Yes, it echoes through the crowds
Who run and cast their doubts
In the deep forbidden lake.