CAPE ST.MARY'S



Take me back to my western boat

Let me fish off Cape St. Mary's

Where the hog-down sail

And the Fog horns wail

With my friends the Browns and the Clearys

Let me fish off Cape St. Mary's



Let me feel my dory lift

To the broad Atlantic combers

Where the tide rip swirls

And the wild ducks whirl

And old Neptune calls the numbers.

'Neath the wild Atlantic combers



Let me sail up Golden Bay

With my oilskins all a-streaming

From the thunder squalls when I hauled my trawls.

And my old Cape Ann a-gleaming

With my oilskins all a-streaming.



And let me view that ragged shore

With the beaches all a-glisten

With the caplin spawn

Where from dusk till dawn

You bait your trawn, and you listen

To the undertow a-hissin'.



And when I reach that last big shoal

Where the groundswells break asunder,

Where the wild sands roll to the surge's toll

Let me be a man and take it

When my dory fails to make it.



Oh take me back to that snug green cove

Where the seas roll up their thunder

There let me rest

In the Earth's cool breast

Where the stars shine out their wonder

And the seas roll up their thunder.



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Written by Otto P. Kelland, Quality Music, Inc., PROC.

Recorded by Stan Rogers in 1982 on For the Family, Folk

Traditions, R002.

@sailor @Canada

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DC

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