The Church bells rang like a fog horn lost out at sea ,
Is there anyone there “ it sang gracefully .
The suns light  hid behind pale blue skies ,
it was eight in the morning in this quiet market town .

The birds could be heard blackbird ,
Chaffinch , thrush ,
all wrapped up in coffee or brunch ,
all were lost to this light house near cliffs on the sea?

Blue bells and blackberry shells ,
fish and chips for tea .
A. quiet harbour a fisherman’s prayer ,
that none should be lost at sea.

And soon the coffee cups were empty ,
soon the bed were made ,
Soon the breakfast dishes were lying empty in the sink .

The towns folk like fish were drawn to a net ,
the old sea dog smiled ,
and stopped pulling on his bell ,
the fish were caught and smiling ,
their souls were saved from hell .

That evening as the waves crashed upon the sand ,
Laver bread and bacon for supper as fishermen’s wife’s ,
Lit fires awaiting their men that may never again see dry land .

Dear God ,
on bended knee bring my man back to me “

The old sea dog climbed the stairs ,
round and round those sturdy old steps ,
and pulled that bell with all his might ,
that none should be lost on this dark night .