Managed Retreat

When King Canute sat on a chair
On Bosham shore and bade the sea
Hold back, he knew he was outclassed.
You can`t defy the tide.

And when we sat at Tollesbury
Or was it Old Hall Marsh?
We watched the sea come creeping up,
We watched the rising tide.

We watched until it was full flood
The water oily still; a signal
Then, and all at once the sky was full
Of wheeling fowl
Thrilled at the turning tide.

And sulkily the sea withdraws,
Relinquishing the shore.
The fresh washed mud oozes and sucks,
The sea birds spiral chattering down,
They`ll feast on ebbing tide.

Alone at Fingringhoe I stand
And watch the tide flow quietly in.
Oh let it rise, like good Canute,
You can`t defy the tide.

On waxen moon, on brimming tide,
Oh breach, sea walls, let brine flow in.
Oh let me weep, managed retreat,
You can`t defy the tide.