كلمات Wrecking Days

Oh to strand line and the sands When the gale from the southwest Blows for the tree days Oh what’s the rolling form Who’s gives the brings on my home Oh For the Wrecking Days Atlantic castaways, plastic and stone Oh For the Wrecking Days Atlantic castaways, cuttlefish bones There lights a daily archive Beach comes a Paradise Waiting a blow tide Impatience when sea is high And wasted blow tide painting the coast line Oh For the Wrecking Days Atlantic castaways, plastic and stone Oh For the Wrecking Days Atlantic castaways, cuttlefish bones Finds me a wash-up storie In a plastic bottle talk Round tankle fishing tackle At the sailor’s for a gone Oh For the Wrecking Days Atlantic castaways, plastic and stone Oh For the Wrecking Days Atlantic castaways, cuttlefish bones Land delisted it of other white Ships of distance every night Take care for thoushands too times Humble for fish a Jenan bites Oh For the Wrecking Days Atlantic castaways, plastic and stone Oh For the Wrecking Days Atlantic castaways, cuttlefish bones Oh to the strand line I send a message to the Baltic Sea To be found by sea faryman And the line of his face for every hight tide is ever seem Oh For the Wrecking Days Atlantic castaways, plastic and stone Oh For the Wrecking Days Atlantic castaways, cuttlefish bones