Rick Lang/Ted DeMille
I’ll tell you of a lighthouse on an island made of stone
In as rough a stretch of water as any ship has known
A keeper and his family tended to the light
And kept the oil lamps burnin’ through the dark Atlantic nights.
The keeper sailed to Rockland one dark November day
He asked his eldest daughter before he rowed away.
“Abby fill the lanterns and watch the light for me.
Help your ailing mother and guide the ships at sea”.
Keep the light burning Abby
Your mama’s sick and your daddy’s gone
Keep that beacon burnin’ on and on.
Keep the light burnin’ Abby
Darkness fell, the ocean swelled, and its angry waters churned
Abby lit the lanterns and watched for his return
As the storm grew wilder tears welled in her eyes.
She knew it might be days before he’d be back by her side.
For thirty days the tempest raged and the waves crashed on the shore.
It brought the cold salt water right up to their door.
The howlin’ wind came sweepin’ in and the rains fell black as night
Through it all the keepers’ daughter tended to the light.
When at last the storm had ended and the sea grew calm again
Abby saw her father’s ship sailing home to them
She ran down the water’s edge and they held each other tight
She’d kept the oil lamps burning for thirty days and nights
Now Abby loved the keeper’s life and for many years she stayed
There she raised a family and a happy life they made
In a tiny seaside churchyard in a tiny town in Maine
The keeper of the lighthouse she rests this very day