There’s a busted-up ol’ dory thats a’resti’n by the pier
With the name of “maverick” fade’n on her bow,
But there was a time I launched her at a place right close to here
And I wish to God that I could do it now.
I’ve rolled her through a gentle surf, into a sea of glass,
And I’ve pushed her through the gentle rollin’ swell,
And I’ve fished her on an angry tide, in search of big rock bass,
That boiled below like fiery steams of hell.
But I’ll nere forget the morn that I eased her through the brine,
The way I’d done a thousand times before,
When I thought I felt her shudder like she’d struck a piece of pine,
Then she raised her bow and went ahead for more.
I guess I must of rode her for an hour or more that day
Till the land slowly disappeared from sight,
And I had a premonition going all along the way
That I might not make it back before the night.
The sea was gettin’ choppy for the wind came up a bit,
And I knew that I was in for quite a time
Then I reached back and cut my motor which was ’bout to throw a fit,
Then started in to settin’ out my line.
I’d set about a hundred yards when down from underneath,
I head a noise that sounded mighty queer,
‘Tis some ol’ shark a scratchin’, now this was my belief,
Then came a sight that raised my hair with fear.
The whole Pacific Ocean came a rushin’ in below,
And there was not a blessed thing that I could do,
So I just sat there hopin’ that a blasted boat would show,
But all that I could see was ocean blue.
Now I’m not much for prayin’, for I’d never gone to church,
And I guess I’ll never see those pearly gates,
But when your boat starts in to sinkin’ and it leaves you in a lurch,
You’ll never trust your soul unto the fates.
So I started into hollerin’ and sobbin’ a like kid,
And a lookin’ for an angel up above,
But the greatest of all fishers must of thought I’d blown my lid,
For I didn’t even get a blasted dove.
I knew I was a goner ’cause I couldn’t swim a lick,
Then I felt the water close above my head,
Then I knew they’d soon be lookin’ for a fisherman named “Mick”,
And I knew that when they found me I’d be dead.
There wasn’t any reason why it happened when it did,
And there wasn’t any time to wonder why,
But the “Maverick” started raisin’ from below where she had hid,
As if she didn’t want to see me die.
Then I found myself a holdin’ to the ring upon her bow,
And a tryin’ to shed my boots by kickin’ hard,
Then suddenly I remembered that the sharks sure liked a row,
So I knew I’d better be upon my guard.
Now what’s the use in fightin’ when you know you’re gonna die?
And then the odds of makin’ land are mighty slim,
Well, the will to live is stronger, then you know you’ve gotta try,
So you make your mind up then you’re gonna win.
Well, the chop was gettin’ heavy and the swell was gettin’ worse,
And there wasn’t any place that I could hide,
But at last I slid upon her like a coffin on a hearse,
And just about as dead as that inside.
Ol’ Davy Jones was grinnin’ hard and a waitin’ for my soul,
Which, by the way, was gettin’ might tired,
But all the tea in China couldn’t wish me to his hold
So to my boat I clung like I was wired.
I really hate to tell you how I spent that awful night,
With my bloody fingers goughin’ in the wood,
Or the time I spent in prayin’ tryin’ to cover up my fright,
Like a man whose gettin’ hanged must have his hood.
Then I thought I hear some thunder and I thought it might queer,
‘Cause there wasn’t any lightin’ in the sky,
But when it started gettin’ louder and it seemed so awful near,
I finally figured out the reason why.
‘Twas that good ol’ surf a boomin’ and a poundin’ on the shore,
Like the sound of mighty cannon speakin’ loud,
Then I knew my prayers were answered like they’d never been before,
And I knew I wasn’t ready for a shroud.
Then the “Maverick” came a chargin’ in like Moby Dick of old,
And hit the beach with one last might run,
So that is where I left her, and she never has been sold
But before I did I thanked the Holy One.
I can tell by your expression (it’s as plain as it can be),
That you kinda seem to doubt the power of prayer,
But if you’ll come to church next Sunday at the Chapel by the Sea,
You can bet your bottom dollar I’ll be there.
Then I’ll tell you all about it and to prove I haven’t lied,
I’ll spiel a might sermon ’bout the sea,
For the night I wrecked my dory was the night the parson died,
And, you guessed it right my friend, the new ones me!