Roger Quilter — Come Unto These Yellow Sands

Come unto these yellow sands And then take hands: Curtsied when you have and kissed The wild waves whist: Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear Hark, hark! Bow-wow The watch dogs bark; Bow-wow Hark, hark! I hear the strain of strutting Chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle dow