I Know That I'll Be Back Again
by Fred Rogers
As recorded by Jeff Dennison & Benny Graham
Chorus :
And I know that I'll be back again
To cruise along the waterway not caring where or when
There's no deadlines, no telephone, no reasons to pretend
And the only thing you need to know's what lies around the bend
Autumn moorings on the waterway with misty fingers curl
The sun's a globe of scarlet and the clouds are tinted pearl
You cast off from your mooring point, ease gently to midstream
You know the world belongs to you and life is but a dream
The starkly painted locks appear like castellated walls
The clanking drawbridge paddles raise the bridges that enthral
The moss lined bricks move past your eyes the lock gates open wide
And you ease into a different world on a sweetly moving tide
The motor throbs beneath your feet, the tiller fights your hand
Your wake makes ripples in the reeds, where statued herons stand
Kingfishers on sentry guard above their secret pools
They zig-zag off along the cut like crazy flying jewels
The old curved bridges turn your whispers into hails
Their modern square steel cousins carry motorway and rail
They don't echo to the history of rope-scarred brick and post
And cargoes carried on a sea ten yards from coast to coast
Ghosts of industry long dead in the old parts of the town
Through cracked and grimy windows, on the waterways gaze down
Was it china clay from Cornwall? Was it cotton from the mills?
That was pulled by weary horses through the cuttings in the hills
As dusk falls on the waterways you glide past moored up boats
From curtained cabins happy sounds and merry laughter floats
You find yourself a spot to moor and cast your rope ashore
Tonight its food and beer and chat, tomorrow so much more
Recorded on :
I Know That I'll Be Back Again
by Fred Rogers
As recorded by Jeff Dennison & Benny Graham
Chorus :
And I know that I'll be back again
To cruise along the waterway not caring where or when
There's no deadlines, no telephone, no reasons to pretend
And the only thing you need to know's what lies around the bend
Autumn moorings on the waterway with misty fingers curl
The sun's a globe of scarlet and the clouds are tinted pearl
You cast off from your mooring point, ease gently to midstream
You know the world belongs to you and life is but a dream
The starkly painted locks appear like castellated walls
The clanking drawbridge paddles raise the bridges that enthral
The moss lined bricks move past your eyes the lock gates open wide
And you ease into a different world on a sweetly moving tide
The motor throbs beneath your feet, the tiller fights your hand
Your wake makes ripples in the reeds, where statued herons stand
Kingfishers on sentry guard above their secret pools
They zig-zag off along the cut like crazy flying jewels
The old curved bridges turn your whispers into hails
Their modern square steel cousins carry motorway and rail
They don't echo to the history of rope-scarred brick and post
And cargoes carried on a sea ten yards from coast to coast
Ghosts of industry long dead in the old parts of the town
Through cracked and grimy windows, on the waterways gaze down
Was it china clay from Cornwall? Was it cotton from the mills?
That was pulled by weary horses through the cuttings in the hills
As dusk falls on the waterways you glide past moored up boats
From curtained cabins happy sounds and merry laughter floats
You find yourself a spot to moor and cast your rope ashore
Tonight its food and beer and chat, tomorrow so much more
Recorded on :
