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Come and gather 'round me people |
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And a tale to you |
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I'll tellOf my father and his father |
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In the days before the spill |
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With an endless sky above 'em |
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And a restless sea below |
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And every blessin' flowing from the |
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Gulf of Mexico |
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From my Granddad with the shrimp boats |
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From the time that he was grown |
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And he scrimped and saved and bought himself |
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A trawler of his own |
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He was rough and he was ready |
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And he drank when he was home |
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And he made his family's living on the |
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Gulf of Mexico |
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We were rolling |
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We were rolling |
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Past the deep blue water |
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He was rolling |
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Well my Daddy drove a crew boat |
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Hauling workers to the rigs |
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He was sick of mending nets |
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And couldn't stand the smell of fish |
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He drew a steady paycheck20 years at |
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TexicoWhen he died they spread his ashes |
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On the Gulf of |
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MexicoWe were rolling |
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We were rolling |
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Past the deep green water |
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He was rolling |
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As for me, |
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I think of nothing |
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Any grander than the day |
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That I stepped out on the drillin' floor |
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To earn a roughneck's pay |
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Then one night |
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I swear I saw the devil |
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Crawlin' from the hole |
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And he spilled the guts of hell out in the |
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Gulf of Mexico |
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We were rolling |
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We were rolling' |
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Cross the blood red water |
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We were rolling |
