(Words & music Michael Smith)
The Dutchman's not the kind of
man who keeps his thumb jammed in the dam
That holds his dreams in
But that's a secret that only
Margaret knows
When Amsterdam is golden in the
summer Margaret brings him breakfast
She believes him
He thinks the tulips bloom beneath
the snow
He's mad as he could be
But Margaret only sees that sometimes
Sometimes she sees her unborn children in his eyes
Let us go to the banks of the ocean
Where the walls rise above the Zuiderzee
Long ago I used to be a young man
And dear Margaret remembers that for me
The Dutchman still wears wooden shoes, his cap and coat are patched with the love
That Margaret sewed there
Sometimes he thinks he's still in Rotterdam
And he watches the tugboats down canals, calls out to them when he thinks
He knows the captain
Till Margaret comes to take him home again
Through unforgiving streets
That trip him though she holds his arm
Sometimes he thinks he's alone and he calls her name
Let us go to the banks of the ocean ...
The wind has whirled the windmills round, she winds his muffler tighter
And they sit in the kitchen
Some tea with whisky keeps away the dew
And he sees her for a moment, calls her name, and she makes the bed up singing
Some old love song
A song Margaret learned when it was very new
He hums a line or two
They sing together in the dark
The Dutchman falls asleep and Margaret blows the candle out
Let us go to the banks of the ocean ...
(as sung by Steve Goodman)