Boats of wood, Men of Iron

Boats of wood, Men of Iron

In a boat built of wood from the mountains of Maine
With a keel of black oak, Neptune himself could'nt strain

A hundred mile steam to the Northeast Peak
Eleven men fish an eight day week

Catching scallops in foul weather and fair
They toil the decks, with twenty footers everywhere

Shucking those clams while standing at the box
The drags are hauled back, stuffed full with rocks

The captain climbs down and says with a sigh
Finish up boys, it's time to fly

Step in close and hear what I say
A storm we have, force twelve on the way

With all secure it's time that they turn
The great grey sea's soon to boil and churn

So go ahead storm give it your best
They're full ahead now, bearing due west

Plunging and plowing long into the night
The storm's going to lose, this crew's giving fight

Around the corner and what do they see?
The hurricane barrier off to they're lee

Now tied to the dock, eleven men rest
Iron strong men, Newbedford's best