Now the gulls are crying
White horses riding
Flying higher
For the fire
Nice as you please comes the traveling man
Pondering and wandering along
Disappearing in the dips
His sandy shoe
Drinking a bottle of milk in his hand
Old rusty cans, pebbles 'bedded in the sand
Down where young gulls dance
Sack on back wild flowers in his hand
Taking the sun the morning being very drab
Driftwood lying drying
Through the grass he steered
Out from the sea came a little green crab
With weather fair
Old rusty cans, pebbles 'bedded in the sand
Speaking to no one in particular but happily
Scratching his beard
Yellow beak and sleek
Stand and stare
The tinker and the crab
Over the dunes came a traveling man
Onto the sand
Stand and stare
On the seas pasture
The tinker and the crab
