I viewed in my presence 
My hand on my forehead 
And sighting the liners 
Of mad merchant seamen 
In search of the living 
Or the spices of China 
 
Lucy walked gently 
Between the damp barrels 
And shut out my eyes 
With the width of her fingers 
Said she'd guessed the number 
Of bales in the back room 
 
While the seagulls were screaming 
Lucy was eating 
Then we hauled up our colors 
The way the mother had told us 
And together we just watched the sails 
 
Lucy I said 
In a passage of cotton kegs 
Can we hold hands 
I'm sure that it's warmer 
Then the gulls ate the crumbs 
Of Lucy's sandwich