From the recording The Crawlspace Tapes


by Greg Trafidlo, KiraPole Music, BMI

In the city of Lincoln, Nebraska, a frustrated sailor was born.
He read about ships that rolled out of the slips,
And went sailing for years ‘round the Horn.
He learned all the reels and the shanties, still he’s twelve hundred miles from the shore.
Instead of sea farin’, he sells pickled herrin’ at the I.G.A. grocery store.   

And it’s way, hey, rig up the sails, we’re off for the catch of the day.   
He sings, “Yo, Ho, ring up the sale, to broil, to bake, or fillet.”   
There’s roughy and schrod, catfish and cod, and we’re runnin’ a special on prawns.   
He sings straight from the heart to your shopping cart.   
It’s the seafood shop shantyman’s song.

He bellows his tunes o’er the speakers, like a shantyman sings to his crew.
“Set sail for the Seafood Department, there’s plenty of oysters for stew.
There’s turbot and trout, and you’ll knock yourself out
On the salmon from Frobisher Bay.
There’s swordfish and shrimp, and we never skimp on the salads made fresh every day.”   

Chorus (Change third line.)   
To broil, to bake, or flambe’.

With his gaze on a bottle of Old Spice, halfway down on the right. Aisle ten.
He longs for the days of the Tall Ships, and dreams they’re returnin’ again.
And he sees himself out on the watchdeck, singin’ cadence off Pamlico Sound.
While he’s manning his station, it’s no imitation, like those crab legs for two bucks a pound.   

Chorus (Change third line)   
To broil, to bake, or e’touffee.