Fer’ Higher Ground
It’s an easterly wind that blows tonight,
And it moves through the waves with a song.
The sun left the day as a beautiful sight,
That I’ll remember the whole night long.
But the signs say a storm is heading ma’ way,
From icy clouds and a salmoned sky,
For with a moon that glowed orange all the day,
Shows ma old sailor’s wounds never lie.
The swells are laying higher upon the beach,
And the seabirds are none to be found.
And I’ve pulled me stern above it’s reach,
And made way for higher ground.
Horizon seems tame with a rum in me hand,
And from Jon’s pub comes a musical tune.
But the heart of this seaman yearns on dry land,
For the swell of the new tide’s spume.
I can smell the clouds there, past me sight,
As a tempest is bound for the coast.
An’ me Grace sure looks invit’en ta’night,
And in ’er berth I’d be warm as toast.
Choose yer battles, me pappa would say,
An me pappa, he raised him no lout.
For there’s tide enough coming for another day,
Hell! Its shore leave I’m talk’en about!
There’s rain there a’pound’in on the sill,
But that warm fire’s sure keep’en me.
Lil Grace here, she can’t get her fill,
Though she knows that me love is the sea.
You see, me pappa, he raised him no fool,
As me freedom is me only pay.
For if that sea breeze there just feels cool,
I’ll soon be follow’en the seabird’s way.