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Now it's just my luck to have the watch with nothing left to do,
But watch the deadly waters glide as we roll north to the Soo,
And wonder when they'll turn again and pitch us to the rail,
And whirl off one more youngster in the gale.
But I told that kid a hundred times, don't take the lakes for granted,
They'll go from calm to a hundred knots so fast they seem enchanted;
But tonight some red-eyed Wiarton girl lies staring at the wall,
And her lover's gone into a white squall.
The kid was so damned eager, it was all so big and new,
You never had to tell him twice, or find him work to do;
And evenings on the mess deck, he was always first to sing,
And show us pictures of the girl he'd wed in spring.
Now it's a thing that us old-timers know, in a sultry summer calm
There comes a blow from nowhere, and it goes off like a bomb;
And a sixteen thousand tonner can be thrown upon her beam,
While the gale takes all before it with a scream.
But I told that kid a hundred times, don't take the lakes for granted,
They'll go from calm to a hundred knots so fast they seem enchanted;
But tonight some red-eyed Wiarton girl lies staring at the wall,
And her lover's gone into a white squall.
The kid was on the hatches, lying staring at the sky,
From where I stood, I swear I could see tears fall from his eye,
So I hadn't the heart to tell him that he should be on a line,
Even on a night so warm and fine.
When it struck, he sat up with a start, I roared to him: Get down,
But for all that he could hear, I might as well not made a sound,
So I clung there to the stanchions and I felt my face grow pale,
As he crawled hand-over-hand along the rail.
Now I could feel her heeling over with the fury of the blow,
And I watched the rail go under then, so terrible and slow,
Then like some great dog she shook herself and roared upright again,
While overside I heard him call my name.
So it's just my luck to have the watch with nothing left to do,
But watch the deadly waters glide as we roll north to the Soo,
And wonder when they'll turn again and pitch us to the rail,
And whirl off one more youngster in the gale.
And I tell these kids a hundred times, don't take the lakes for granted,
They'll go from calm to a hundred knots so fast they seem enchanted;
But tonight some red-eyed Wiarton girl lies staring at the wall,
And her lover's gone into a white squall.
