Rocks at Thieves Bay

'Twas a November storm, not a ship dared the waters
Except Tom Hawkins' Good Times;
All thirty-two feet has been chopped up like meat
And the wind sent her chills up his spine
From Ladysmith Harbour he ran the gulf mail
Twenty years through Stuart Channel to the tip of Camp Bay;
But that night the waves crashed o'er her starboard
And fear grabbed his heart

He staggered on deck as the Good Times was tossed
Like a toy in a tub with a child;
And the waves in their anger spat foam in his eyes
And threw themselves hard at her bow
The rocks at Thieves Bay took a piece from her side
In less than a minute the Good Times capsized;
And Tom Hawkins met God
In the eye of a five metre wave

Half mast on the Coast Guard in Canadian colours
The Maple Leaf flies in the wind;
On deck stands Liz Hawkins wrapped in Tom's duffle
Surrounded by close friends and kin;
As she leans o'er the railing carnations fall free
The salt from her tears meets the salt of the sea;
As the boat leaves Thieves Bay for the last time
She calls out his name