There aren't many places where you can hear life
The rustling of paper and the slicing of a knife
The whispers of the wind and the rhythms of the sea
The fluttering of birds and the humming of a bee

From the earliest days of Nehemiah, Solomon and John
There's been a fisherman's wharf and church filled with song
A safe mooring for boats, in from the storm-ridden sea
A place to call home for the whole family

Up over the trail, down amongst the wild cedar trees
Through a blueberry-covered garden to a cool ocean breeze
To a kingly cove where eagles soar and gannets dive and play
With a view back in time to a long bygone day

On a starlit night, with the harbour's waters alight
Moonbeams ease your path on even the darkest night
And as you pass like a ghost down along by the shore
Peace and tranquility fill your soul for ever more

Fog and drizzle swirl amongst the old clapboard houses
Scattered dots of colour nestled in the misty grey cove
And the smell of burning wood drifts across every rooftop
As families gather around their old cast-iron stoves

Out of the harbour, on and around the rocky head
Down along past Old Billy to the old homestead
There's Three Arms Island at rest in the arm
Where families were built with the fish and the farm

Memories live on of Nellie, Emma and Aunt Bess
Of old Uncle Phil, Ralph Moore and the rest
Lives lived in toil, on the sea and the shore
Souls now in heaven who will pass here no more

At the end of the road there is no finer a spot
To sit back and take stock of the world and its lot
On a bright summer's day down by cool Bottle Pond
Where insects hum gently and sea breezes respond

The message they bring speaks of generous, hardy folk
Of lives simply lived and the fond memories they stoke
In a town built by bay men with axe, hammer and saw
In a place filled with kindness named Harry's Harbour

Richard Taylor
  Submitted By: Richard Taylor