Album: The Best of Roger Whittaker
The day the river freezes,
is the day it won't seem fair.
'Cos they'll come to get the river lady
and I don't think they'll care.
I know they'll scrape her paint off,
in their same old foolish ways.
Now the people see the river
but the old ship's gone away.
Water turns cold and gets to freezing
before you even know it, the old girl's easing.
Away from her berth, round by the point and out of our view.
Off in the mist her engines pounding,
back on the banks, that old horn's sounding,
a little good-bye, a little I'll do what I must do.
A little good-bye, a little I'll do what I must do.
I know I will remember,
when I cannot hear that horn,
that would roll up by the mountains,
as she took us through the storm.
I know they've got to take her,
but I can't say I approve,
'cos she's won so many battles
that I hate to see her lose.
Water turns cold and gets to freezing
before you even know it, the old girl's easing.
Away from her berth, round by the point and out of our view.
Off in the mist her engines pounding,
back on the banks, that old horn's sounding
a little good-bye, a little I'll do what I must do.
A little good-bye, a little I'll do what I must do.
Water turns cold and gets to freezing
before you even know it, the old girl's easing.
Away from her berth, round by the point and out of our view.
Off in the mist her engines pounding,
back on the banks, that old horn's sounding
a little good-bye, a little I'll do what I must do.
A little good-bye, a little I'll do what I must do.