A new year dawning fair and free
That January, ninety three
The seas were high, the skies were grey
Disaster’s but a wave away
Chorus
Quendale, Quendale, wind and rain
When will your seas be clean again?
Black as night, the rich man’s gold
Spilling from the stricken hold
With broken back the "Braer" lay
And poured destruction on that day
Man’s endless greed for easy gain
Assails the land with an oily rain
And children’s lungs the price must pay
For a tanker’s death in Quendale Bay
Seals and seabirds choked and oiled
A century of nature spoiled
The sanctuary opened wide
Our future ebbing with the tide
A new year dawning fair and free
That January, ninety three
The seas were high, the skies were grey
Disaster’s but a wave away
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