Road To Yankee Harbour

Road to Yankee Harbour, oil on board, Steven Rhude, Argyle Fine Art

Been driv'in on roads going up.
Been driv'in on roads going down.
Been all the way to FPI, just to hear they done left town.
Seen too many doors closed.
Seen too many committees froze,
 by the ghost of Hollis Brown.

'They're to blame" said the serf - "waste and empty is the sea",
So the Master said - "move along folks; nothing left in here that's free."
"We have no criminals here in town", said someone close to someone near.
"Mister", the Master said -  "I might make the rules, but it's the Bible you should fear."

'"The Bible?' said the serf, "It's got noth'in on me,
the book I read, cried and bled, with the voice of Socrates."
He'd been to the land they call Green,
been jerked on up, and jerked on down,
Seen em' sick with every lean.
With their ears in the water and their face in the sun,
heard that hollow ancient scream.
As it echoed in their minds, they were pitched by the sea, forth to the port and board,
And in the wheel house he found them, all alone and on their knees,
 a pray'in to the Lord.

We'll never know if it did them any good, cause black granite's what they got,
names for the liv'in, names for the dy'in, bad memories to be fought.
There mak'in movies in that old port town.
The scenery's pretty for miles around.
They got a schooner sleek with a big tall mast,
and  hiring lots of locals to make up the cast.

Been driv'in on roads going up,
Been driv'in on roads going down.
Been all the way to Seafreeze, just to hear they done left town.
They open doors a wide,
"Come on in", they all cried,
welcome to the lost and found."

"What ya miss'in son? Everybody's lost something."
 thought I heard the mayor say.
"There's courage and fears,
broken clocks and tears,
an just enough time left to play."

The coast was clear in that old port town
The scenery pretty for miles around
Then Cerberus Rock the Arrow hit, and went a ground with oil.
It can still be seen in the lost and found,
black rock, black clams, black soil.

A car pulled up and a man got out,
said as he looked in the box.
"What's this for and your in my way,
can't you see I got to get to the docks."
His suit was fine and his car was sweet,
and pockets were filled with cash.
He looked so close at the bottom line,
with a wink and a blink and a dash.   

He said, "Son, there's nothing left here, why don't you just  move on,
 south to the city of sin.
There's lights and cars,
sidewalks and bars,
a meat dress in a show called Skin."

I said, ''No thanks kind sir, if its all the same - is that your suit or a silhouette?
My box is full, but not with fish,
rather tragedy, toil and sweat."
Its been shipped here and over there,
its even come back another colour.
So times ain't fair and east is west,
for father, son, and daughter.


Been driv'in on roads going up,
Been driv'in on roads going down,
Been all the way to Nat Sea, just to find they done left town.
But there's a song in the wind and a granite fault,
there's a place called Wild Rose Chance.
There's a Lions Club night where the folks drink malt,
and talk and sing and dance.
But there's a mist in the wind and a coin that's tossed,
going to life drawing class tonight.
Noth'in else to do since Arcadia's lost,
and the fisher folk are out of sight.

Steven Rhude, Wolfville, NS.