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Berinda on the Quay 1 by Belinda

SongGPT
Berinda on the Quay 1 by Belinda - Folk-Pop,Female Lead Vocals music cover art

Berinda on the Quay 1

Folk-Pop,Female Lead Vocals

0:003:53
Lyrics
Description
(Verse 1)
The ferry spat my letters to the tide at five,
Lamplight pooled on cobbles where we first arrived.
You folded maps with a woolen glove, steam on your breath,
Berinda, berinda — you smelled of salt and fresh-brewed tea.
I offered you a ticket wrapped in city jokes,
You laughed and tucked it in your coat like paper boats.
That night the quay hummed low, our names in the air,
I kept your pocket scissors when you dropped them there.
(Pre-Chorus)
Small things held us — a chipped mug, a stitched-up seam,
I learned your quiet languages, your late-night dreams.
(Chorus)
Berinda, my baby — don’t let go.
Berinda, my baby — hold me slow.
Berinda, my baby — don’t let go.
(Verse 2)
They called you north with a whistle and a wage,
You left a tea ring on the ledger, and a page.
The train took more than minutes, it unstitched our plans;
I tied a ribbon to the rail where we first began.
Letters went like weather — some came, some drowned,
I chased each one with shoes that wore the town.
You sent a photograph — your thumb smudged on the glass,
I read it in the doorway while the autumn passed.
(Pre-Chorus)
I patched the curtains, learned to mend the storm,
Kept the kettle singing so the house stayed warm.
(Chorus — variation)
Berinda, my baby — don’t let go.
We learned the tide, we learned the road.
Berinda, my baby — hold me close.
(Bridge)
When a squall took the lighthouse and the sky went hard and blind,
I climbed the cliff with both our names tied tight to my mind.
I folded up the faith we’d left in drawers and suitcases,
Sold the stubborn coat that kept me from your face.
On the first clear morning I found the morning train,
I spent my last small coin to follow you through rain.
(Chorus — emotional payoff)
Berinda, my baby — don’t let go.
Berinda, my baby — we made it so.
Berinda, my baby — now hold me close.
(Outro / Resolution)
Now the ferry brings our children where the quay remembers light,
We hang our years like lanterns on the rail each night.
The box of lost letters sits beneath the floorboard low —
I keep one folded corner, and I whisper when winds blow:
Berinda, berinda — my baby, don’t let go.
(Alternate Verse — optional)
Some mornings you hum the tune from that first slow parade,
Your thumb finds mine like it always has, unafraid.
We trade small mercies — a loaf, a ledger, a glance —
And spin our nights from meaning, stitch by steady chance.
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