The beginning of the day can have a rhythm you don’t understand until the end of that day. On this day I travelled 300 miles back from York, and when I got back to Watchet I went to an art exhibition on East Quay, where I happened to speak to a lady who’d been widowed two weeks previously. She asked me to help say farewell to her husband that night. As midnight approached we stood at West Quay and held a Viking funeral for her husband's ashes. We were a small gathering. At the very moment the v-shaped flames flickered out on the boat a flock of geese flew overhead in perfect formation. The perfect timing of those geese flying away with his soul will stay with me forever.
West Quay where we stood to say our goodbyes. August at midnight at the turn of the tide. So still and dark, nature’s warm embrace, the long ship the channel to face.
And the stars they did twinkle and the shooting stars fell, on a still summer’s night ‘twas just about twelve. The sea in her slumber, as she rode a light swell, we said our goodbye to the long ship.
The ship it was launched, and the flame set well. I rang slow and low the street crier's bell. Not a word it was said in our loving farewell as the flames curled and crested her sail.
And the stars they did twinkle, and the shooting stars fell, on a still summer’s night ‘twas just about twelve. The sea in her slumber, as she rode a light swell, we said our goodbye to the long ship.
She drifted so silently floating on air, burning ever so brightly and lighting the sea air. Slowly, oh slowly, she’s drifting away. Time just stood still at the end of the day.
Further and further away she did go, still in our sight as the sea rolls and flows, but smaller and smaller the light did it glow. But our hearts ever brighter as we see the ship roll.
And the stars they did twinkle, and the shooting stars fell, on a still summer’s night ‘twas just about twelve. The sea in her slumber, as she rode a light swell, we said our goodbye to the long ship.
Then the keel it does break and made a v-flame, and soon she is gone from out of our gaze. The silence is broken by the geese flying by carrying his spirit on their wings to the sky.
And the stars they did twinkle, and the shooting stars fell, on a still summer’s night ‘twas just about twelve. The sea in her slumber, as she rode a light swell, we said our goodbye to the long ship.
We said our goodbye to the long ship