John Thorpe - The Long Line Fisherman

Winter is upon us as the seasons slowly turn
Ice lies on the mountain loughs as the sheep they're gathered in
In November skies the sun lies low, wild geese fly and the cold winds blow
The long line fisherman then goes where Mourne shore waters ebb and flow

He's a farmer from the Longstone at the haggard and the drills
He's a stone man up on Seefin cutting granite from the hills
He's handy at the dealing at the market and the fair
But he plows the salt sea ocean at this time of the year

So hand me down me sea boots, hand me down me long lines
Look to the sky for a fair wind
Keep a light on in the window to guide us as we roam
Like the harbour light let it shine out bright and see us safely home

Down the frosted midnight lane in silence deep where senses strain
Like some wandering refugee he makes his way down to the sea
Past the ancient fairy thorn where moonbeams light its twisted form
He answers to the endless call of the restless tide and its rise and fall

At first of flood and the moon on the rise he shoots his lines across the tide
And finds the shoal at the edge of the dark where the waves run strong near the Bleach Yards mark
Here the souls of fishermen they roam upon the deep
While he who lived to tell the tale, his lonely vigil keeps

So sing a song in memory of the men who put to sea
From Newcastle and Annalong in the winter of '43
Well they knew the dangers and the hardships that they faced
Seventy-three the sea it claimed all lost without a trace

Drifting in the crimson dawn he watches as the day is born
Then turns again to face the land where mountains meet the long sea strand
He sees the old ways changing, soon to disappear
The trawlers they're all moving in and the fishing grounds they'll clear

Now some they call it progress, some they call it need
Some call it prosperity while others call it greed
But one thing it's for certain and no man can deny
The memory of those long line men might fade but never die

So batten down the hatches, run before the wind
We're in for heavy weather boys, it's time we headed in
Set a course that's homeward bound, find shelter from the storm
The harbour lights are calling on the misty shores of Mourne

Written by:
John Thorpe

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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