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