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He's up bright and early, all dressed and ready,
Like a kid he's been waiting since quarter past five;
For this is the day that his grandsons had promised,
They would take him out on his last motorboat ride.
On the wharf they put on his boots and his oilskins,
They pull his sou'wester right down to his eyes;
The sound of the engine pulls on his heart strings,
He's taking his very last motor boat ride.
He's as proud as a peacock as he sits at the tiller,
There's a smile on his face, but he's hurting inside;
His tired body says he won't make it past winter,
He's taking his very last motorboat ride.
He heads out to sea where he used to go fishing,
With his favorite companion always by his side;
He can picture him standing there in the boat jigging,
While he's taking his very last motorboat ride.
Now the wind's coming up, and the waves getting higher,
And a spray of salt water whips over the side;
He sits there in silence, lost in his memory,
He's taking his very last motorboat ride.
He's as proud as a peacock as he sits at the tiller,
There's a smile on his face, but he's hurting inside;
His tired body says he won't make it past winter,
He's taking his very last motorboat ride.
He's as proud as a peacock as he sits at the tiller,
There's a smile on his face, but he's hurting inside;
His tired body says he won't make it past winter,
He's taking his very last motorboat ride.
Grandpa is taking his last motorboat ride.
