| Song | Processions |
| Artist | Family |
| Album | Family Entertainment |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Whitney | |
| John Whitney | |
| A small boy, bucket in hand. | |
| Building castles in the sand | |
| Thinking of his life that lies ahead. | |
| An engine driver, sailor, why not a king | |
| Of the sand castle as the gypsy woman said | |
| Taking a ride on a dinkie rail | |
| A green engine that's old | |
| Could be a royal procession through | |
| Big city streets | |
| Waving to the crowds from a sand carpet of gold | |
| Shaking hands of the V.I.R's one meets | |
| Sailing a toyboat in a rock pool | |
| Thinking that it could be | |
| The Queen Mary, passing the Cape Horn tip. | |
| Something majestic, sailing world wide seas. | |
| Attention please, I'm the captain of the ship | |
| After all these thoughts and more | |
| The boy returned to find | |
| That the sandcastles were washed into the sea. | |
| Head in hands, eyes full of tears. | |
| And a mixed up mind. | |
| The gypsy woman can't foresee the years. |
| zuo ci : Whitney | |
| John Whitney | |
| A small boy, bucket in hand. | |
| Building castles in the sand | |
| Thinking of his life that lies ahead. | |
| An engine driver, sailor, why not a king | |
| Of the sand castle as the gypsy woman said | |
| Taking a ride on a dinkie rail | |
| A green engine that' s old | |
| Could be a royal procession through | |
| Big city streets | |
| Waving to the crowds from a sand carpet of gold | |
| Shaking hands of the V. I. R' s one meets | |
| Sailing a toyboat in a rock pool | |
| Thinking that it could be | |
| The Queen Mary, passing the Cape Horn tip. | |
| Something majestic, sailing world wide seas. | |
| Attention please, I' m the captain of the ship | |
| After all these thoughts and more | |
| The boy returned to find | |
| That the sandcastles were washed into the sea. | |
| Head in hands, eyes full of tears. | |
| And a mixed up mind. | |
| The gypsy woman can' t foresee the years. |
| zuò cí : Whitney | |
| John Whitney | |
| A small boy, bucket in hand. | |
| Building castles in the sand | |
| Thinking of his life that lies ahead. | |
| An engine driver, sailor, why not a king | |
| Of the sand castle as the gypsy woman said | |
| Taking a ride on a dinkie rail | |
| A green engine that' s old | |
| Could be a royal procession through | |
| Big city streets | |
| Waving to the crowds from a sand carpet of gold | |
| Shaking hands of the V. I. R' s one meets | |
| Sailing a toyboat in a rock pool | |
| Thinking that it could be | |
| The Queen Mary, passing the Cape Horn tip. | |
| Something majestic, sailing world wide seas. | |
| Attention please, I' m the captain of the ship | |
| After all these thoughts and more | |
| The boy returned to find | |
| That the sandcastles were washed into the sea. | |
| Head in hands, eyes full of tears. | |
| And a mixed up mind. | |
| The gypsy woman can' t foresee the years. |