Thrilling Atlantic
Copyright © 2009 Becka deHaan
On the softest of moss on Thanksgiving Monday, what am I grateful for?
December’s approaching and August has passed and October is simply a bore.
They’ve all come to visit with family and friends and to drink in this Maritime scene
Of leaves turning orange, bright red and golden
That only shows that they’re losing their green.
The beauty around me is all too romantic;
Why am I missing this thrilling Atlantic?
Chorus: Autumn air cooling down with style;
And the birds always know that the spring’s on file
‘cause those long frosty moons still pull the tide.
Round the campfire, hear their song;
Till the harvest it won’t be long;
Guess I should be blessed in this land to abide.
Wading in this kind of powerful water leaves you with salty wet sand;
And the waves are so steady that after an hour this Sunday becomes rather bland.
Or hike till you’re breathless o’er roots and through branches to gaze at a mountain-top view.
From seafood to blueberries and maple syrup
Of these there is plenty, so take some with you.
The beauty around me is all too romantic;
Why am I missing this thrilling Atlantic?
[Chorus]
Now that I’ve lived some two years out west
A walk on the hillside or coast I’d request;
Send me home soon, ‘cause I’m getting frantic;
Why am I missing the thrilling Atlantic?
Autumn air cooling down with style;
And the birds always know that the spring’s on file
‘cause those long frosty moons still pull the tide.
Round the campfire, hear our song;
Till the harvest it won’t be long;
I am truly blessed in this land to abide.
I am truly blessed in this land to abide.
On the softest of moss on Thanksgiving Monday, what am I grateful for?
