Ballad of Combe Martin (dialogue between mother and child) by Carolyn Askar

Please hold my hand and come with me

down on the beach to follow the sea
as it leaves a playground of pools, where we

can splash, play and explore.

Don't be silly dear, drink your tea.

You don't want to go down there to be

wet and windblown, can't you see

we're better off here indoors.

But I want to go down beyond the quay,

walk right out to where I'll see
and smell fresh seaweed, washed in the lee

of crashing waves on the shore.

But why, when you can sit here and see
it all as clearly as can be
through the window, while we have our tea,

comfortable, warm and secure?

I'll roll my trousers up past my knee,

wade through pools, climb rock and scree,

let waves spray salt all over me,
as I face the wind on the shore.

But it's cold out there, too blustery.
You should be grateful for your nice tea
and the cake and comforts you have here with me,

instead of looking for more.

I want to run and think about me;
I want to find out just who I can be,

breathe sharp air that makes me feel free.

I need to discover more.

Just stop this nonsense! Can't you see

we're all safe here, we're a family.
We can't possibly come with you to the sea.

What are you looking for?

You've always made me sit by your knee,
but now I'll make my own way down to the sea

and on the way, I'll learn about me
and grow, alone, by the shore.

Oh, my child, I begin to see,
you're exactly the way I longed to be,
but I was so frightened, I never broke free. -

Think of me down by the shore.