When melancholy Autumn comes to
And electric trains are lighted after
The poplars near the stadium are
With their tap and tap and whispering to me,
Like the sound of little
Spreading out along the
When the estuary's
With the sea.
Then Harrow-on-the-Hill's a rocky
And Harrow churchyard full of sailor's
And the constant click and kissing of the trolley buses
Is the level of the Wealdstone turned to
And the rumble of the
Is the thunder of the
As they gather for the
Into
There's a storm cloud to the westward over Kenton,
There's a line of harbour lights at Perivale,
Is it rounding rough Pentire in a flood of sunset
The little fleet of trawlers under sail?
Can those boats be only roof
As they stream along the
In a race for port and
With the gale?
