Whitby Coming Home by McGrath of Harlow

McGrath of Harlow's Comments:  Here's a song I made up at Whitby for folk week.  I sang it before the week was out.  The tune that set itself to it is a bit reminiscent of a hymn tune used for O Jesus Christ Remember in Catholic srvices, and the Churches One Foundation, I believe, in the CofE.  That struck me the other day as I was driving along and checking that I remembered the words.  But other people might not see the similarity.  Not that it matters.  If anyone feels like singing it and has a tune they like better, feel free.  I've put in a RealAudio song file to give an idea of the tune. (In fact I sing it using G chords capoed up so it's in the key of A.)


Perhaps the seagulls woke me, but I could not sleep that night
So I walked down to the harbour, to see the harbour lights,
And the harbour lights were shining, and the night was calm and clear -
But I'll tell you one more reason I'll be coming back next year
To Whitby in the summer, together or alone,
To Whitby, where it's always coming home.

And rising in the morning, I climbed two hundred stairs
To sing there in St Mary's, and to listen to the prayers,
With the bells so sweetly ringing, and the seagulls wheeling by,
And high above the harbour we were singing in the sky
In Whitby in the summer, together or alone,
In Whitby, where it's always coming home.

With the singing and the dancing, and the music in the streets,
And the welcome always shining in the faces that you meet,
Why, Whitby in the summer is like moving through a dream,
But there's something there in Whitby that is deeper than it seems.
In Whitby in the summer, together or alone,
In Whitby, where it's always coming home.

And in the Seaman's Mission, as I sat and drank my tea
The sailormen up on the walls were looking down at me
And standing in the evening so high above the shore
I seemed to see those little ships go sailing out once more
Go sailing out from Whitby, together and alone
Knowing some of them would never make it home.

And all through the streets of Whitby you can hear the seagulls cry
Don't they say they are the spirits of lost sailors long gone by?
So when we sing the old songs, it is more than just a game,
We wake the memory of the past, and welcome them back home
To Whitby in the summer, together or alone,
To Whitby, where it's always coming home.

©Kevin McGrath, August 19th 2002