It is Friday and I for one, am so very happy. For a variety of reasons, this 'short week' has felt unusually long. Outside the sun shines ferociously, a portent of the summer temperatures to come. Yet in my mind, to be truly appreciated, the sun must be seen shining on the surface of the ocean.
I have no idea why, whether because of the recent passing of my good friend from 'back home', or the brief, imaginary scent of kelp in the back of my mind... but I feel myslef becoming a little homesick for God's Country, Nova Scotia.
No doubt after we've had supper tonight, I may flash up my i-Pod and play a few tunes from the late and so very great, Stan Rogers.
Make and Break Harbour. (Stan Rogers)
How still lies the bay, in the light western airs
Which blow from the crimson horizon,
Once more we tack home, with a dry empty hold
Saving gas with the breezes so fair.
She's a kindly cape islander, old but still sound
But so lost in the longliner's shadow,
Make and Break and make do, but the fish are so few
That she won't be replaced should she founder.
Now its so hard to not think of before the big war
When the cod went so cheap, but so plenty,
Foreign trawlers go by now with long seeking eyes
Taking all where we seldom take any.
And the young folk don't stay with the fisherman's ways
Long ago they all moved to the cities,
And the ones left behind old and tired and blind
Won't work for a pound, for a penny.
Chorus.
In Make and Break Harbour the boats are so few
Too many are pulled up and rotten.
Most houses stand empty, old nets hung to dry
Are blown away lost and forgotten...
Now I can see the big draggers have stirred up the bay
Leaving lobster traps smashed on the bottom,
Can they think it don't pay to respect the old ways
That make and break men have not forgotten.
For we still keep our time to the turn of the tide
In this boat that I built with my father,
Still lifts to the sky, the "one lunger" and I
Still talk like old friends on the water.
In Make and Break Harbour the boats are so few
Too many are pulled up and rotten.
Most houses stand empty, old nets hung to dry
Are blown away lost and forgotten...
Aye, she's going to be one fine weekend...
I have no idea why, whether because of the recent passing of my good friend from 'back home', or the brief, imaginary scent of kelp in the back of my mind... but I feel myslef becoming a little homesick for God's Country, Nova Scotia.
No doubt after we've had supper tonight, I may flash up my i-Pod and play a few tunes from the late and so very great, Stan Rogers.
Make and Break Harbour. (Stan Rogers)
How still lies the bay, in the light western airs
Which blow from the crimson horizon,
Once more we tack home, with a dry empty hold
Saving gas with the breezes so fair.
She's a kindly cape islander, old but still sound
But so lost in the longliner's shadow,
Make and Break and make do, but the fish are so few
That she won't be replaced should she founder.
Now its so hard to not think of before the big war
When the cod went so cheap, but so plenty,
Foreign trawlers go by now with long seeking eyes
Taking all where we seldom take any.
And the young folk don't stay with the fisherman's ways
Long ago they all moved to the cities,
And the ones left behind old and tired and blind
Won't work for a pound, for a penny.
Chorus.
In Make and Break Harbour the boats are so few
Too many are pulled up and rotten.
Most houses stand empty, old nets hung to dry
Are blown away lost and forgotten...
Now I can see the big draggers have stirred up the bay
Leaving lobster traps smashed on the bottom,
Can they think it don't pay to respect the old ways
That make and break men have not forgotten.
For we still keep our time to the turn of the tide
In this boat that I built with my father,
Still lifts to the sky, the "one lunger" and I
Still talk like old friends on the water.
In Make and Break Harbour the boats are so few
Too many are pulled up and rotten.
Most houses stand empty, old nets hung to dry
Are blown away lost and forgotten...
Aye, she's going to be one fine weekend...
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