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Many years ago
In an outport you might know
The spinning wheel would whirl as red sun sank;
And yards of yarn would grow
Wool as soft and white as snow
With a little Irish song in every hank.
And Charlotte felt the rhythm of the wheel
And she sang while she was spinning
Her voice was sweet and high;
Leaning back she'd close her eyes
And you'd laugh and then you'd cry
When Lotte was singing.
Charlotte had to spin
For her children and her men
To keep them warm in Maritime weather;
The duty and the strife
Of a fisherman's wife
Were twisted like the yarn and spun together.
And Charlotte felt the rhythm of the wheel
And she sang while she was spinning
Her voice was sweet and high;
Leaning back she'd close her eyes
And you'd laugh and then you'd cry
When Lotte was singing.
Life and death would come
'Round in turn to Charlotte's home
Death took three but Lotte gave life to ten;
White and black wool turned to grey
As she carded joy with pain
Then she'd dry her tears and spin her wheel again.
And Charlotte felt the rhythm of the wheel
And she sang while she was spinning
Her voice was sweet and high;
Leaning back she'd close her eyes
And you'd laugh and then you'd cry
When Lotte was singing.
Lotte died in fifty-five
But her memory's still alive
In songs her children's children's children sing;
The present with the past
Carded, spun and made to last
Through her wheel of life Lotte keeps on spinning.
And Charlotte felt the rhythm of the wheel
And she sang while she was spinning
Her voice was sweet and high;
Leaning back she'd close her eyes
And you'd laugh and then you'd cry
When Lotte was singing.
