[from Manx Quarterly, #24, Jan 1921]

WHEN THE TIDE IS COMING IN.
A SONG FOR NEW YORK, ANENT ITS WATERING PLACES.

(By George Quarrie.)

WHEN the welkin's. all a-burning
And there's fire in the air;
When the market may be turning
But you neither know nor care;
Let me tell you where there's bliss
With adieu to heat and din,
'Tis away down at the beaches,
When the tide is coming in.
When the tide is creeping in,
When the tide is sweeping in,
An, we love the breezy beaches
When the tide is coming in.

Oh ! the dear delight of plunging
In the pure, pellucid tide;
What if pumpkins there are lunging,
You can easy steer aside.
When a cabbage comes along
Or a bloated feline skin,
You can dodge, for you can smell them,
When the tide is coming in.
When the tide comes rearing in,
Much beside combs steering in;
Oh! it's charming at the beaches,
When the tide is coming in.

Oh! the diving is delicious
And the swimming just superb,
Though colliding is suspicious
With an odd decaying herb;
But there's fun along the shore;
Who for garbage cares a pin,
If it does line all the beaches
When the tide is coming in?
When the tide is stealing in,
Much beside is reeling in;
But we dote upon our beaches
When the tide is coming in.

ENTRE NOUS.

Now, of all things that you mustn't do,
You must never, never boast
That another place upon this earth
May have a better coast.
Let New Yorkers go on dreaming
That in everything they win,
Though you inwardly are screaming
When their tide is coming in I

When their tide comes griming in,
When their tide comes sliming in,
Oh I if once they were in Manxland
When THAT tide is coming in !!