Silent Farewell on Southampton Quay

The iron side begins to slide,

The water churns in grey and white.

I hold a square of folded lace,

But do not wave it in the light. (ahhh)

And the band played cheerful on the pier,

To drown the sound of parting tears.

A brassy tune of march and drum,

For the cold campaigns

of days to come.

Soon the letters start to fly,

With foreign stamps and ink so dry.

Just ink and paper in my hand,

Far from the music of the band. (ohhh)

Southampton docks grow cold and grey,

The troopship carries you away... (shhh)