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Clyde |
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Look, the ark, it is bearing down |
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And you are staring down |
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The wind and the sea |
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And hoping perhaps |
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With the waters going back |
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That a new day will have dawned |
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But see, the ark, it is resting now |
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High on Mount Ararat |
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Starting again |
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And the cargo that it brought |
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Is leaping from the hold |
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Looking for the chaos that it sought |
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The ark, the ark, it is giving forth |
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You might say it is giving birth |
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To the children of man |
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But who is this? |
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Staring at the sunshine? |
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Drying socks, laughing, shoving, crying? |
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Not you, not me my friend |
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Are not these the men of the iron mountain? |
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Were not these the leaders of the fighting? |
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Ah now, you see my friend . . . . . |
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Polish up your helmets, lads, we're going on parade |
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We praise our God for sparing us to fight another day |
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We'll sing his song in unison, we'll sing in harmony |
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We'll stamp out insurrection, wherever it may be |
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So bring on the rain |
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And the lightning from the sky |
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And let us hope again |
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Oh look, the ark, it drifting now |
