The seagulls of summer have flown. 
And the sailors have wintered their boats.  [bad word] sit by the fire and tell me your secrets. 
Love isn't kept easily. 

The windows are shuttered and closed, 
With blankets to keep out the cold. 
But you are still restless, your heart is enchanted, 
Drifting away from me. 

And is she beautiful? 
She must be pretty, or worse, to ride the high seas. 
She must be beautiful. 
White linen sails that have captured your vagrant breeze. 
Singing her siren song, 
Luring you far from the harbor and into the gales. 
She must be beautiful. 
So beautiful, to have stolen the wind from my sails. 

Casting your dreams out to sea, 
Will you remember me, 
As years go by washed away with the tide? 
It was I, who set you free. 

And is she beautiful? 
She must be pretty, or worse, to ride the high seas. 
She must be beautiful. 
White linen sails that have captured your vagrant breeze. 
Singing her siren song, 
Luring you far from the harbor and into the gales. 
She must be beautiful. 
So beautiful, to have stolen the wind from my sails. 

To have stolen the wind from my sails.