Gale Force

Nighttime on the west coast of Cape Breton, Nova Scotia
Men out on a clear St. Lawrence night
It’s the season for pulling crab traps
Then the moon drops out of sight
A sea wind comes up out of nowhere
blows whitecaps Into a raging storm
Men all scurry round the deck preparing
To turn the boat around and head for home

When the winds of life turn gale – force
Safety of the shore is what we seek
We all have our own prayer for a
Sheltering harbor in our darkest time of need

Hay lies cut, got to get it in the barn
Help feed the stock all winter long
Clouds appear over Old Baldy
Got to make hay, for the crop is gone
Lord knows, it’s gonna be a wild one
Whole family pitching in at double speed
Got to get the hay in dry and under cover
Fore It lays rotten in the field

Firestorm ravaged Pleasant Bay and Red River
Late in the summer 1947
Swept down the highland slopes of Mount Mackenzie
An angry breath of hell from heaven
French came in by sea to save village
They brought every boat they had
Pulled all the town folk out to safety
Far from the jaws of a world gone mad