Cold wind bites the rusted iron rail
Old salt skin and a canvas sail
Red brick paths under autumn gold
Stories that the harbor tide told
The water turns a heavy grey
The summer warmth has gone away
Bright beam cutting through the salted haze
Lighting up the old brick city ways
Tugboat pulling through the harbor deep
While the frozen cobblestones sleep
Diesel smoke hangs in the morning chill
The heavy engine humming steady still
Copper bells ringing from the distant tower
Counting down the final winter hour
The water turns a heavy grey
The summer warmth has gone away
Bright beam cutting through the salted haze
Lighting up the old brick city ways
Tugboat pulling through the harbor deep
While the frozen cobblestones sleep
Tea stained maps on a wooden table board
Sailing lines that the ancient sailors stored
Woolen coats buttoned tight against the gale
Writing out a weathered sailor's tale
Steady now with the anchor chain
Holding fast through the freezing rain
Heavy iron and a stubborn hand
Pulling ghosts back to the solid land
Bright beam cutting through the salted haze
Lighting up the old brick city ways
Tugboat pulling through the harbor deep
While the frozen cobblestones sleep
Amber lamps cast a glow on salted stone
Walking through the harbor all alone
Autumn leaves floating on the oily black
Tracing every single shoreline track
Bright beam cutting through the salted haze
Lighting up the old brick city ways
Tugboat pulling through the harbor deep
While the frozen cobblestones sleep
Hold the line, hold the line.
The harbor light is mine.
