Hear the squeal of the iron wheel on the steel rail
Hear the lark of the crowds as they disembark
For a day at the seaside
Hear the soft roar of the tide
Hear the collide of the last of the seven waves
Hear the sound of the shift of the sand
As it fills in the shapes of your footprints
Listen to the whistle
Listen to the diesel engines acceleration
Listen to the slowly fading sounds of departure
After a day at the seaside
Listen to the lonely sound of the unloved gulls
Listen to the twilight tennis balls on slowed down racquets
Listen to the cry of the wee-baern
As he searches for his sleep
Home now wherever home might be
Memories then
For whenever memories might then be needed
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