The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #91328 Message #1736247
Posted By: Rapparee
09-May-06 - 01:26 PM
Thread Name: Lyr Add: The Mary L. Mackay / Mary L. McKay
Subject: Lyr Add: THE MARY L. McKAY (from Schooner Fare)
Here is the version Schooner Fare did on the "Alive" album in 1983. I copied this from their website, www.outergreen.com.
THE MARY L. McKAY
Frederick W. Wallace / Arr. & Adapt. Schooner Fare
We first heard this song in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Later we found it in a North American folk collection. The story is unchanged but the rhythm, melody and chords have been rewritten. It's the story of a record-setting voyage between Portland, Maine, and Yarmouth, N.S., with a little help from Portland bootleg rum.
From Portland, Maine, to Yarmouth Sound Two-twenty miles we ran In eighteen hours, my bully boys, Now beat that if you can. The crew said it was seamanship; The skipper, he kept dumb. But the force that drove our vessel Was the power of Portland rum.
Come all ye hardy haddockers Who winter fishin' go. And brave the seas upon the banks In stormy wind and snow And ye who love hard driving Come listen to my lay Of the run we made from Portland On the Mary L. McKay.
We hung the muslin on her As the wind began to hum. Twenty hardy Nova Scotia men Chock full of Portland rum. Mainsail, fores'l, jib and jumbo On that wild December day As we passed ole Cape Elizabeth And slugged for Fundy Bay.
Storm along, drive along Punch her through the rips. Northeast gale's a blowin', And we'll take all that she gives. We're homeward bound to Yarmouth Sound Two-twenty miles today We made the run on Portland rum On the Mary L. McKay.
We slammed her by Monhegan As the gale began to scream. Our vessel took to dancing In a way that was no dream. A howler o'er the taffrail, b'ye As we steered sou'east away For she was a hound for running Was the Mary L. McKay.
We slammed her to Matinicus. The skipper hauled the log "Sixteen knots! Lord Harry! Ain't she just the gal to jog?" The half-canned wheelsman shouted As he swung her on her way "Just watch me tear the mainsail off The Mary L. McKay."
Chorus
The rum was passing merrily And the crew was feeling grand Longnecks dancing in our wake From where we left the land. Our skipper he kept sober For he knew how things could lay, And he made us furl the mains'l On the Mary L. McKay.
Now the captain didn't care to make His wife a widow yet. He swung her off to Yarmouth Cape With just her fores'l set Past Fourchu in the mornin' And shut in at break of day And soon in shelterin' harbor Lay the Mary L. McKay.
Chorus
From Portland, Maine, to Yarmouth Sound Two-twenty miles we ran. In eighteen hours, my bully boys, Now beat that if you can. The crew said it was seamanship; The skipper he kept dumb. But the force that drove our vessel Was the power of Portland rum.