Celebrating a strong, creative, resilient Lunenburg County
NOW, MORE THAN EVER...
A poem by RILLA NICKERSON
Down by the harbour where the boats lie,
And the red houses are towering high,
Protected by the majestic birds,
Sleeps a small town called Lunenburg.
When you stare out across the ocean,
The waves move in slow motion,
But when it is windy, they move very fast,
Meaning all the fishing boats will never last.
The long rows of red houses act as a warning
For the boats and sailors that are dawning.
The boats carry in lobster, which is bright red,
For the local restaurants so the people can be fed.
Families gather for a boat ride to the island,
Where they will see the eagles and point their hand.
The children get excited when it’s their turn to sail,
And afterward they will eat supper in the old jail.