Putt, putt, goes the motor boat
Going out the bay
Families gathered together
Going berry picking for the day
There was sister Yonne and Merina
Aunt Bertha and uncle Nelson
Cousin Clarence and John,
All with our rubber on
Putt, putt, goes the motor over the waves
We stopped to jig some cod along the way
For lunch later that day
We arrived on the Island in record time
The Island was covered in a blanket of red
We soon filled our buckets to the brim
A source of food for the cold winter months
To be stewed and bottled and put away
We gathered firewood on the beach
Cooked mussels in sea water
While the children played on the beach
We boiled our tea in natural spring water
Night shadows was creeping in
Time to head back home
A day well spent
I can still hear the putt putt of that old engine
Echoing through my mind
The waves crashing agaist the boat,
As it putt, putt, putt, way home
, ...........................
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem