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I grew up at the bottom of the Glover's Shore road,
Near the place where the seawall ends;
Where the eel grass is high and the bank swallows fly,
In the shadow of the bay oyster men.
With one foot in the country and the other in town,
Trying my best to be free;
But at night in my bed funny dreams filled my head,
I heard Marg Osbourne singing to me.
She said, follow that star, that Maritime star,
Don't lose sight of the water wherever you are;
With sand in your pockets you can't wander too far,
Those big city lights can't shine as bright as the Maritime star.
So if you find yourself lost on that great milky way,
And you can't navigate it alone;
Just east of Orion on the northern horizon,
There's a star that will guide you back home.
If the gold at the end of that latest rainbow,
Just seems too far away;
When the forecast is wrong and the wind is too strong,
Remember what Rube Hornstein said.
She said, follow that star, that Maritime star,
Don't lose sight of the water wherever you are;
With sand in your pockets you can't wander too far,
Those big city lights can't shine as bright as the Maritime star.
