WAYS OF MAN

(Gordon Bok)



The ways of man are passing strange

He buys his freedom and he counts his change

Then he lets the wind his days arrange

And he calls the tide his master



Oh the days, oh the days

Oh the fine long summer days

The fish come rolling in the bays

And he swore he'd never leave me



But the days grow short and the year gets old

And the fish won't stay where the water's cold

And if they're going to fill the hold

They've got to go offshore to find them



So they go outside on the raving deep

And they pray the Lord their soul to keep

But the waves will roll them all to sleep

And the tide will be their keeper



Oh the tide, oh the tide

Oh you dark and you bitter tide

If I can't have him by my side

I guess I have to leave him



I gave you one, I gave you two

The best that rotten old boat could do

You wouldn't be happy till I gave you three

But I'll be damned if you'll get me



Oh the tide, oh the tide,

Oh you dark and you bitter tide

If I can't have him by my side

The water's welcome to him



Oh Lord I know that the day will come

When one less boat comes slogging home

I don't mind knowing that he'll be the one

But I can't spend my whole life praying



I gave you one, I gave you two

The best that poor old boat could do

You'd have it all before you're through

Well I've got no more to give you



Copyright Folk-Legacy Records, Inc.

@sailor @fish

sung by Bok, Trickett, and Muir on a Folk Legacy record of the

same name.

filename[ WAYSMAN

SF

===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY