When the cool wind begins to blow from the north
And the waves of the bay begin to roll this way,
That’s when watermen knows in his heart
It’s time to gear up and go out on the
Summer is over and crabbing is done,
His credit’s all gone and winter had come;
As sure as the tide will rise and run
He feels in his bones, dredging season
His father before him, and grandfather too,
Passed down the secrets of the bay so true.
Dropping the yawl boat when no wind blows
And clasping his hands on days cold and
He’ll grind in his catch and cull the oysters to find
The ones grown enough on which the masses will dine.
He’ll work his hands raw, hauling
bushels so full
Selling to buy-boats the bounty of his
The sun in the sky now begins to set;
The geese settle down to find their rest
The waterman knows his workday is
He cleans up his boat and pays off the
The waterman’s life is now fading away,
As there’s not much earned at the end of the day.
But through the cold winter, he labors
hard this way,
Harvesting a life on the Chesapeake Bay.