I’m going down to my rock-pool,
You’re gonna sit on my toadstool,
You’re gonna take my magic water,
I’m gonna give you daughter.
Chorus: Let me be your ornamental hermit,
permit me to be the guardian of your rock-pool:
the trout are rising all around us;
the frogs are calling in the moonlight.
Let me be, your head gardener:
prune your shrubs, plant plenty of trees;
feed your lobelia, sweep your leaves,
tend your clematis on the grotto’s wall.
I may be out of my tree,
but I shall climb it at ninety,
look down at you, say:
“Hey grandma, come on up here.”
Chorus
Let me be the captain of your fleet,
raise your colours on top of my pole.
The ocean is bracing all around us
as I sail her into a cove.
I may be all at sea,
but I shall sail it in piracy;
bring you treasures within my hold,
monstrous tales never told.
Chorus
Let me be your ornamental hermit,
Let me be, your head gardener,
I wanna be the captain of your fleet.