There are ships that pass and pass and never come;
they ghost horizons' grey, then pass away.
And there are greener islands than this one
with fruitful palm and tamarind and bay.
They ghost horizons' grey, then pass away
and leave you on the beach with Mills & Boon,
with fruitful palm and tamarind and bay,
shelled oysters brimming pearls, a citrine moon
above you. On the beach with Mills & Boon,
you're fancy-free and trust they're quite sincere—
shelled oysters brimming pearls, that citrine moon
returned in your romances year by year.
You're fancy-free, you trust (and you're sincere)
that there are greener islands than this one.
What turned you off romances late last year?
Damn ships that pass and pass and never come.
