Richard Shindell. There Goes Mavis. Zeneszám

The beach at Newcomb Hollow
The last days of August
The other side of low tide
The sun is high, the sun is high

We?re kneeling in the wet sand
Stopping up a wall breach
Quick, before the next wave
Rushes in, rushes in

The mote around the castle
Is filling up with water
But hope springs eternal
All hands ready ? here it comes

Behind us in the crowd
Some kind of commotion
A little girl is shouting
Fly away! Fly away!

But we pay no attention
The castle is in danger
The ramparts are sinking
We dig on, we dig on

Then out of the blue
There?s an orange canary
On our driftwood flagpole
Shovels down Boys! ? step away

The little girl comes running
She can?t be more than seven
Her mother is behind her

With a cage, with a cage

And her mother is explaining
Baby, it?s just too far
And she?ll never survive here
On her own, on her own

But the little girl?s not listening
She?s talking to the bird
Mavis you can trust me
Now?s your big chance
Fly away!

If Mavis has been listening
She isn?t letting on
We?re all just waiting
No one moves, no one moves

And then comes the wave
Swamping the castle
No one is watching
When it falls, when it falls

We?re following the progress
Of a little bolt of orange
On the long horizon
There goes Mavis
There goes Mavis