What does an old cattleman see
When he stares at the ocean
From the balcony of his retirement villa on the coast
Is it the waves, the gulls or the glare
Or something else out there
To make his eyes squint
His face so dour
To be that silent
Hour after hour
What does an old cattleman see
In the first light of morning
Bare feet shuffling along the high water line
Is it a cuttle bone, driftwood or weed
He picks up occasionally
And studies a while
Deep in thought
Then places tenderly
Back in the water
Sea horses
Sea horses
Sea horses
Washed up on the sand
InstrumentalÂ…
What does an old cattleman see
In the last glow of evening
With his bowl of tobacco and his nip of over proof rum
Is it the streetlights, the moon or the stars
Or just the passing cars
What was it exactly
He thought he'd find
By leaving all
He knew behind – for
Sea horses
Sea horses
Sea horses
Washed up on the sand