About half way up in the state of Maine if you turn hard to your right
And walk straight to the ocean shore, your heart fills with delight
Nestled in, among the trees where the Northern Lobster grows
Is a little town called Christmas Cove where I’d sure like to go
Chorus:
Oh Christmas Cove, where the southerlies blow
The sailors and the fishermen all come in from the cold
Oh Christmas Cove, in summer’s shady groves
The lobsters jump right in the pot, way up in Christmas Cove
If I had a sailboat I’d sail to Christmas Cove
Where the water sparkles silver and the sand is shiny gold
I would build a little house and perch it on a rock
So I could set out on the porch and sing til 9:00 o’clock
Chorus:
Oh Christmas Cove, where the southerlies blow
The sailors and the fishermen all come in from the cold
Oh Christmas Cove, in summer’s shady groves
The lobsters jump right in the pot, way up in Christmas Cove
In the summer I would swim, and look for lobster claws
In the autumn I would hunker down, as the leaves began to fall
In winter time I’d ski between the moose tracks in the snow
Then spring would bring the lupins out, way up in Christmas Cove
Chorus:
Oh Christmas Cove, where the southerlies blow
The sailors and the fishermen all come in from the cold
Oh Christmas Cove, in summer’s shady groves
The lobsters jump right in the pot, way up in Christmas Cove
Copyright© 2008 Johnny Bregar
