Music: Steven Grove
Heave, Ho
Well we spend our days ‘neath the scorching sun
We work the salt flats till the day is done
Scouring for relics from a time long gone
When our father’s sang the ocean’s song
Heave, Ho
Now we rest our heads on shell and bone
In the belly of the city, outcasts alone
We long for the days when we hoist the sails
And we take to the sea to catch the roaring gales
And we take to the sea to catch the roaring gales