Grey water laps the stone
He walks the dock alone
The leather feels so cold
A story left untold
Buff the grain to a gold
Hold the weight of the fold
Let the heavy boots glow
Where the salt breezes blow
He rubs the blackened hide
The ferry waits inside
The copper coins stay still
Against the winter chill
Buff the grain to a gold
Hold the weight of the fold
Let the heavy boots glow
Where the salt breezes blow
The wax is thick and white
It catches early light
A stitch across the seam
A soft and steady gleam
Buff the grain to a gold
Hold the weight of the fold
Let the heavy boots glow
Where the salt breezes blow
Old iron chains will rust
The harbor turns to dust
He wipes the surface clean
The cleanest sight he's seen
The fog begins to lift
The wooden moorings drift
He packs his brushes tight
Before the midday light
Buff the grain to a gold
Hold the weight of the fold
Let the heavy boots glow
Where the salt breezes blow
Sanding down the edge.
Just a polished sole.
