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We just lost sight of the Queensport light
down the bay before us,
And the wind has blown some cold today
with just a wee touch of snow;
Along the shore from Lazy Head
hard abeam Half Island,
Tonight we'll let the anchor go
down in Fogarty's Cove.
My Sally's like the raven's wing
her hair is like her mother's,
With hands that make quick work of a chore,
and eyes like the top of a stove;
Come suppertime she'll walk the beach
wrapped in my old duffle,
With her eyes upon the masthead reach
down in Fogarty's Cove.
She will walk the sandy shore so plain,
watch the combers roll in,
Till I come to Wild Rose Chance again
down in Fogarty's Cove;
She will walk the sandy shore again,
watch the combers roll in,
Till I come to Wild Rose Chance again
down in Fogarty's Cove.
She cries when I'm away to sea,
nags me when I'm with her,
She'd rather I'd a government job
or maybe go on the dole;
But I love the waves as I pull about,
nose into the channel,
My Sally keeps the supper and a bed for me
down in Fogarty's Cove.
