Father’s boat comes sailing,
Sailing from the west;
On the shore stand watching
Those who love him best.
Blooms the gorse so golden
On the breezy down,
Comes a sound of joy-bells
From the busy town.
In the fisher’s cottage
Mother’s work is done,
Through the open window
Streams the sinking sun.
Cheerily the kettle
Sings upon the fire,
Ticks the old clock loudly,
Creep the shadows higher.
Just now, in the gloaming,
When the boat is in,
And the fish are counted
With a merry din,
All those five together
Up the cliff will come,
Peacefully and gladly,
To their cozy home.
