Up on the sands of Old Cape Cod, here were born
Many an old sea dog, that blew many a tin
Foghorn, a natural sailor when
They were born.
Old Cape Cod is washed with waves of might deep,
Washing the sands of shore, rivers and creeks,
Washing shore banks high and steep,
A grave –yard for those who
Sailed the briny deep.
Many Cape Cod boys have sailed the seven seas,
In a clipper ship, with full sail breeze, not
Fearing their destiny, they sailed with
Ease, eating old salt horse and
Hardtack, no butter or cheese.
Cape Cod boys singing their salty song; sailing along, oh, sailing along, let it blow high or low, we can stand the storm with
Billows breaking and running, the good clipper ship
Sailed on. We shall reach our harbor safely
Tomorrow at dawn.
Blow in from far out on the sea, the echoes of the old
Tin foghorn for you and me who have sailed the
Might deep, the rolling ocean has caused
Many a sailor boy to weep.
There are many Cape Coders who went down to David
Jones’ Locker to the bottom of the mighty deep,
Their bravery of seas still lingers with me yet,
They are still sailing on another clipper ship.
Where are the boys that blew the old tin horn, in howling
Winds and blinding snow storms? the good clipper
Went wrong, so this is the end of the
Old tin foghorn.