Campobello Sky

— Brian W. Flynn

I sail out of Head Harbour with the knowledge of my father,
Passed down through generations of these men who work the sea.
We’ve fished through good and bad times, we’ve fished through laughs and tears,
I’m proud to haul the line that reaches back so many years.

I know every rock and ledge from The Wolves to Grand Manan,
I know how the tide is turns around every speck of land.
I know it’s givin’ weather, when there’s mare’s tails in the sky,
When the wind turns round Sou’easter I know we’re in for quite a ride.

We’re the seiners, we’re the draggers, we set and haul the traps,
Any day’s a good day fishing when every man comes back.
Lay me down next to the ocean when it comes my day to die,
Until then I’ll keep on fishing ‘neath the Campobello sky.

I follow all the superstitions ‘cause my father said they’re true,
I’ve never turned this boat against the sun, some things you never do.
I never wear no corduroy, or sing of Clementine,
I never whistle up the wind or step inside a coiled line.

When the sun is fading quickly and the day turns into night,
My course true and steady till I reach Head Harbour Light.
It’s been one more day of fishin’, one more day out on the Bay,
My father’s hand upon my shoulder, we made it home another day.

We’re the seiners, we’re the draggers, we set and haul the traps,
Any day’s a good day fishing when every man comes back.
Lay me down next to the ocean when it comes my day to die,
Until then I’ll keep on fishing ‘neath the Campobello sky.

Lay me down next to the ocean when it comes my day to die,
Until then I’ll keep on fishing ‘neath the Campobello sky.