And there were mermaids -- weren't there? --
Sweet silver mermaids.
All through that grey Trafalgar Square,
Such silver mermaids.

They were young, and they were fiar.
They brushed their bronze and dusky hair,
And whispered, "Come, Sad Stephen, come and play here."

"You will love, you will be loved.
You will grow up, and do so much.
You will be strong, you will be sung.
By all the mermaids. Silver mermaids..."

And once they'd sung their satin song,
They beckoned to me from the fog --
They spread their arms and lifted
Pale-portrait faces...I was taken.

To their coral-cavern halls,
To rooms with oyster shells for walls,
To sandy nooks, and pearly books, and ivory dolls...

In ivory stalls, in ivory stalls...

And there were mermaids -- weren't there?
Sweet silver mermaids.
All through that wan, forgotten square,
Silver mermaids.

They were young, and they were fair.
They brushed their bronze and dusky hair.
And whispered, "Come, Sad Stephen, come."
And I was taken.

Was I wrong? Should I have run?
I wanted all, I wanted young
And portrait faces...I was taken.

Did I love? I didn't care.
Did I grow up? Well, unaware.
And was I strong? And was I sung?
How do I haunt Trafalgar fog
And find I want so much, still want --

And no more mermaids.
No more mermaids...