Take me back to my western boat Let me fish off Cape St. Mary's Where the hag-downs sail And the Fog horns wail With my friends the Browns and the Clearys Let me fish off Cape St. Mary's Let me feel my dory lift To the broad Atlantic combers Where the tide rip swirls And the wild ducks whirl And old Neptune calls the numbers. 'Neath the wild Atlantic combers Let me sail up Golden Bay With my oilskins all a-streaming From the thunder squalls where I haul me trawls. And my old Cape Ann a-gleaming With my oilskins all a-streaming. And let me view that rugged shore
With the beaches all a-glisten With the caplin spawn Where from dusk till dawn You bait your trawl, and you listen To the undertow a-hissin'. And when I reach that last big shoal Where the groundswells break asunder, Where the wild sands roll to the surge's toll Let me be a man and take it When my dory fails to make it. Oh take me back to that snug green cove Where the seas roll up their thunder There let me rest In the Earth's cool breast Where the stars shine out their wonder And the seas roll up their thunder.