The winds they blow high boys, the winds they blow low,
But there's nobody left on the old Baccalieu,
And they who remember now number but few,
When the waters get rough o'er the old Baccalieu.

They brought in the salt and the coal to make dough,
She wasn't too fast and she wasn't too slow,
And one eyed Jack Quilty was Master that day,
When old Davey Jones came aboard for his pay.

The twenty year cup she was lookin' to get,
For comin' in first to the Port Nantucket,
All colours and bunting were ready to fly,
Just make for the harbour there safely to lie.

The shadows crowd sunshine away from my lane,
And everything seems very much just the same,
To waken the memories of pleasures we knew,
When everyone cheered for the good Baccalieu

To finish this story the truth now I'll tell,
And hands they were lost and their fortunes as well,
And they that remember now number but few,
When the waters get rough o'er the old Baccalieu.


Submitted By: john christopher
From the Collection: Molasses Bread and Tea