A Lady Does Not Often Falter
A lady runs across the Old Mill Moor, a dreadful song was singing
By the darkness of that now new moon, to her lover's guise was tightly clinging
Oh go run, go run your troubles down, go run down to the water,
by the city fair and the ocean fierce, a lady does not often falter
There runs she now by the "˜Sconset rose, there runs she now a'bleeding.
And a trail is kept by the way she moves, to her lover's touch is dire needing
Although starched your apron may now be, it'll lose its shape in the water
but go swimmeth thee to the anchor most near, a lady does not often falter
Oh the winds they blow and the tide she swells, brings life unto the beaches
Oh that seem between the Earth and Tide, from land that sea is not quite as wide
Oh the winds they blow and the tide she swells, breathes life into the tall pines
Without her breath lies the world so still, but with, that constant shoreline
A lady runs across the Old Mill Moor, and Heaven's bells were tolling
By the sadness of that silent tune, and the sea kept on gently rolling