Old Ferry Lane

There's a bend in the river
Beyond my garden wall -
Collects the dreams, the broken dreams
From the bridge away upstream.
Where the swallow divers
With their broken hearts
Wash up at Ferry Lane,
Where the Pilgrims crossed.
Now the only ones
Are the ever lost.
When the tide goes out
Their pain remains,
Lapping soft
In old Ferry Lane.

There's a sound from the river
Calls me when I'm in bed.
I hear the willows, the weeping willows
In the pillow beneath my head.
All the tears and anger
And the sunken hopes
Wash up at Ferry Lane,
Where the churchyard waits
Ever patiently
For the names and dates.
When the tide goes out
Their songs remain,
Calling me
To old Ferry Lane.