Sweet surrender on the quayside
 You remember we used [bad word] and hide
 In the shadow of the cargoes I take you one at a time
 And we're counting all the numbers down to the waterline

 Near misses on the dogleap stairways
 French kisses in the darkened doorways
 foghorn blowing out wild and cold
 policeman shines a light upon my shoulder

 [bad word] a coaster fast and silent in the night
 Over my shoulder all you can see are the pilot lights
 No money in our jackets and our jeans are torn
 Your hands are cold but your lips are warm

 She can see him on the jetty where they used to go
 She can feel him in the places where the sailors go
 When she's walking by the river and the railway line
 She can still hear him whisper
 Let's go down to the waterline