LARRY KAPLAN'S songs have been performed and recorded by many respected artists and audiences around the world---poignant stories in song, written in the truest folk tradition, honest, highly sing able… always memorable. Larry has also played a significant role in helping to bring the music collected by the late E. Gale Huntington, of Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts to scholars, performers, and collectors alike, who share a love for the songs sung and shared by sailors and whalers across many oceans. Born in Boston, Larry grew up in Maine and Massachusetts and now calls both London, England, and Essex, Connecticut home. He worked professionally for many years on the traditional schooners from Maine, crewed on and helped restore the famous Artic Schooner, Bowdoin, and has released three CDs through Folk Legacy Records, “Worth All The Telling,” “Songs For An August Moon,” and “Furthermore.” The latter two were each honored in 2014 and 2016 as two of the top Folk CDs by the Hudson River Sampler radio show in Albany NY, and by the Midnight Special, syndicated out of Chicago.
AUDIO
WRITINGS
GET HER INTO SHORE
Well we set our traps in the bitter cold
On the third day of the year
There was three of us then
We were the youngest of ten
Two for lines, and one to steer
When it blows Northeast on the Georges Bank
You don't like to take your time
But the engine was old
It didn't like the cold
And we fell back on our lines
CHORUS
Get her into shore
She can't take it anymore
We're too far from home
It's gonna break her bones
Can't you get her into shore?
Jack throws the switch
He says, you old sonofabitch,
What the hell do you think you're doing?
Well you've brought us to the poor house
Too many times
You ain't taking us to our ruin
But the line went slack
We saw the stern turn back
And we started up again
But she just tightened up
And I knew we were stuck
Lying broadside in the wind
Get her into shore…
Tom picks up the axe
Cuts us free from the traps
He swung so hard he smashed the rail
Then he looks hard at me
And he spits in the sea
His face was whiter than the hail
We tried her again
Gave her all that we could
And we felt that screw turn round
And I remember I prayed
For some more steerage way
On that black and ugly ground
Get her into shore…
Jack puts her hard over
So to run with the tide
But she fell into the trough
And with her side to the swell
She just leaned in and fell
And I knew we all were lost
And all that I saw
Was her rotten old keel
With that line flung across her stern
But I couldn't hold to her
And I couldn't go down
I just wished I'd never been born
Get her into shore…
Well the tide runs hard
In the wintertime
You're a fool to go and try
God help the poor man
Who is born on the sea
God save the poor ones who try (die)
--------------------------------
JOHN
Foggy harbor cold and wet and not a soul
The boats are sitting crooked in the mud
All about the sounds of life are chilled and distant
And the kerosene lamps flicker in the night
Rub your hands together
Pull your collar up
We'll drink another round
Before the night is gone
Take your chances boys
Soon we'll all be leaving
And not a word about the times to come
John comes home to his old boat he's alone he wears
His stocking cap pulled down upon his ears
Ten years going and he's worked his hands
To stone and leather says tonight he's got to get away
Busted broke no place to go that's what he says you get
For putting all your time into the sea
Then a man gets old, he says too late to settle down, he says
Too late to find a place for company
Hear the hulls 'a creaking hard against the rocky bottom
Hear the hungry lonesome singing gulls
Curse the winter winds those empty dreams that took you in
When you're young enough you never get your fill
Keep your lanterns on and throw the big hatch open wide
No man is a stranger in the cold
Throw another log into the fire the night is young enough
And good friends keep a man from getting old
Rub your hands together
Pull your collars up
We'll drink another round
Before the night is gone
Take your chances boys
Soon we'll all be leaving
And not a word
About the times to come
Take your chances boys
Soon we'll all be leaving
And not a word
about the times to come
--------------------------------
My Brother Mike and me
It’s my brother, Mike and me, and my oldest son, Anthony
On our wooden vessel built in our backyard
Well it’s time to set our nets, the big boats haven’t got here yet
When you’re out here all alone it isn’t hard
Well the young men say that the fishing’s slow
But we’re catching plenty, it’s the price that’s low
It’s either this or join the company
But if the rates they pay to those tubs of steel
Are the same for mine with her wooden keel
I’d rather fish these waters just us three
CHORUS Wind’s against us, tide’s against us
Bad bills and the fog leans hard against us
It’s a rotten deal
But it’s the best job that a man can do
When his two best friends are his only crew
When his own son says he’s glad to take the wheel
Well each time we make this run, she sticks out like a big sore thumb
She’s the oldest vessel on these fishing grounds
And no profit has she earned, except for all the respect she’s earned
And that’s still worth something in this fishing town
I’ve fished the same way on this sea that my father learned and he taught to me
And the big boats guarantee you’ll get your share
But they make the rules for the work you do
And they scrap your boat and let go your crew
Just to pay you steady twelve months of the year
CHORUS
Ah, but what’s this worth to me, I’d rather go out slow with dignity
No catch of mine I’ll sell to foreign lands
Besides, any wage I’d make a year
Still couldn’t pay off all this broken gear
When its time to quit, I’ll know just where I stand
CHORUS
It’s my brother Mike and me, and my oldest son, Anthony
On this wooden trawler built in our backyard
Now it’s time to set our nets, the big boats haven’t got here yet
When you work out here alone, it isn’t hard.
--------------------------------
Poseidon’s Three Wishes (II)
Cold October morning, one last spit of rain
Sun’s just starting up to rise, one cloud still in the way
I wish I had someone to tell, how hard it is to cry
Harbors on a going tide are rivers going dry
Funny how I never sit here, never had the space
You call it home then all you do is leave this pretty place
You go and chase the fish offshore, and worry ‘bout your crew
And when (if) you get back in at night, there’s no one waits for you
I’d like to have three wishes from Poseidon’s selfish sea
His gift for all my putting up with all he did to me
For every God-damned hungry month I couldn’t pay for gear
And putting off the little things that grow bigger every year
The first wish I would bring back every friend I lost at sea
The second I would have a wife I knew would wait for me
The third a home high in the hills, (with) no path down to the sea
And if I could have just one wish more I’d make him bow to me
So if on this rusty weathered bench was someone sitting here
And if they cared for my advice I’d tell them straight and clear
I’d say make sure the dreams you dream are higher than this sky
Then spend your life remembering, you can only reach so high
So set out on the ocean with a hunger for big hauls
But settle for the smaller catch if that makes sense at all
Poseidon—he is never fair, he’d never grant one wish
Or care what angry oceans do to men, and boats, and fish.
--------------------------------
Song for the Bowdoin
Well you sailed the cold waters of the great northern bay
Ice thick on your rigging, lee rail under the wave
And the snow on your canvas like a winter gull’s wing
Oh, all the times you’ve been through
And now you’ve got hard times
And now you lie still
And you’re fast to the anchor and chain
Broken and tired
Summer winds pass you by
But you’re bound to go sailing again
Well you cleared out of Boothbay on a gentle south swell
With the breeze on your quarter, how that bow rose and fell
There are those who remember so much more than they’ll tell
Oh, all the times you’ve been through
Greenland and Baffin and the white Labrador
In the winds and the terrible show
When they carried their icepicks just to bring you about
In the light from the lanterns below
So rest, Lady, rest from the fog and the gales
Let the harbor protect you let the sun dry your sails
Let a hundred old sailors tell their saltiest tales
Of the hardest of times you’ve been through
And we’ll see your masts mingle with the spruce and the pine
And we’ll bow as we all pass you by
For a boat is more patient than a sailor can be
When the sun and the wind fill his eyes
And now you’ve got hard times……
Well we set our traps in the bitter cold
On the third day of the year
There was three of us then
We were the youngest of ten
Two for lines, and one to steer
When it blows Northeast on the Georges Bank
You don't like to take your time
But the engine was old
It didn't like the cold
And we fell back on our lines
CHORUS
Get her into shore
She can't take it anymore
We're too far from home
It's gonna break her bones
Can't you get her into shore?
Jack throws the switch
He says, you old sonofabitch,
What the hell do you think you're doing?
Well you've brought us to the poor house
Too many times
You ain't taking us to our ruin
But the line went slack
We saw the stern turn back
And we started up again
But she just tightened up
And I knew we were stuck
Lying broadside in the wind
Get her into shore…
Tom picks up the axe
Cuts us free from the traps
He swung so hard he smashed the rail
Then he looks hard at me
And he spits in the sea
His face was whiter than the hail
We tried her again
Gave her all that we could
And we felt that screw turn round
And I remember I prayed
For some more steerage way
On that black and ugly ground
Get her into shore…
Jack puts her hard over
So to run with the tide
But she fell into the trough
And with her side to the swell
She just leaned in and fell
And I knew we all were lost
And all that I saw
Was her rotten old keel
With that line flung across her stern
But I couldn't hold to her
And I couldn't go down
I just wished I'd never been born
Get her into shore…
Well the tide runs hard
In the wintertime
You're a fool to go and try
God help the poor man
Who is born on the sea
God save the poor ones who try (die)
--------------------------------
JOHN
Foggy harbor cold and wet and not a soul
The boats are sitting crooked in the mud
All about the sounds of life are chilled and distant
And the kerosene lamps flicker in the night
Rub your hands together
Pull your collar up
We'll drink another round
Before the night is gone
Take your chances boys
Soon we'll all be leaving
And not a word about the times to come
John comes home to his old boat he's alone he wears
His stocking cap pulled down upon his ears
Ten years going and he's worked his hands
To stone and leather says tonight he's got to get away
Busted broke no place to go that's what he says you get
For putting all your time into the sea
Then a man gets old, he says too late to settle down, he says
Too late to find a place for company
Hear the hulls 'a creaking hard against the rocky bottom
Hear the hungry lonesome singing gulls
Curse the winter winds those empty dreams that took you in
When you're young enough you never get your fill
Keep your lanterns on and throw the big hatch open wide
No man is a stranger in the cold
Throw another log into the fire the night is young enough
And good friends keep a man from getting old
Rub your hands together
Pull your collars up
We'll drink another round
Before the night is gone
Take your chances boys
Soon we'll all be leaving
And not a word
About the times to come
Take your chances boys
Soon we'll all be leaving
And not a word
about the times to come
--------------------------------
My Brother Mike and me
It’s my brother, Mike and me, and my oldest son, Anthony
On our wooden vessel built in our backyard
Well it’s time to set our nets, the big boats haven’t got here yet
When you’re out here all alone it isn’t hard
Well the young men say that the fishing’s slow
But we’re catching plenty, it’s the price that’s low
It’s either this or join the company
But if the rates they pay to those tubs of steel
Are the same for mine with her wooden keel
I’d rather fish these waters just us three
CHORUS Wind’s against us, tide’s against us
Bad bills and the fog leans hard against us
It’s a rotten deal
But it’s the best job that a man can do
When his two best friends are his only crew
When his own son says he’s glad to take the wheel
Well each time we make this run, she sticks out like a big sore thumb
She’s the oldest vessel on these fishing grounds
And no profit has she earned, except for all the respect she’s earned
And that’s still worth something in this fishing town
I’ve fished the same way on this sea that my father learned and he taught to me
And the big boats guarantee you’ll get your share
But they make the rules for the work you do
And they scrap your boat and let go your crew
Just to pay you steady twelve months of the year
CHORUS
Ah, but what’s this worth to me, I’d rather go out slow with dignity
No catch of mine I’ll sell to foreign lands
Besides, any wage I’d make a year
Still couldn’t pay off all this broken gear
When its time to quit, I’ll know just where I stand
CHORUS
It’s my brother Mike and me, and my oldest son, Anthony
On this wooden trawler built in our backyard
Now it’s time to set our nets, the big boats haven’t got here yet
When you work out here alone, it isn’t hard.
--------------------------------
Poseidon’s Three Wishes (II)
Cold October morning, one last spit of rain
Sun’s just starting up to rise, one cloud still in the way
I wish I had someone to tell, how hard it is to cry
Harbors on a going tide are rivers going dry
Funny how I never sit here, never had the space
You call it home then all you do is leave this pretty place
You go and chase the fish offshore, and worry ‘bout your crew
And when (if) you get back in at night, there’s no one waits for you
I’d like to have three wishes from Poseidon’s selfish sea
His gift for all my putting up with all he did to me
For every God-damned hungry month I couldn’t pay for gear
And putting off the little things that grow bigger every year
The first wish I would bring back every friend I lost at sea
The second I would have a wife I knew would wait for me
The third a home high in the hills, (with) no path down to the sea
And if I could have just one wish more I’d make him bow to me
So if on this rusty weathered bench was someone sitting here
And if they cared for my advice I’d tell them straight and clear
I’d say make sure the dreams you dream are higher than this sky
Then spend your life remembering, you can only reach so high
So set out on the ocean with a hunger for big hauls
But settle for the smaller catch if that makes sense at all
Poseidon—he is never fair, he’d never grant one wish
Or care what angry oceans do to men, and boats, and fish.
--------------------------------
Song for the Bowdoin
Well you sailed the cold waters of the great northern bay
Ice thick on your rigging, lee rail under the wave
And the snow on your canvas like a winter gull’s wing
Oh, all the times you’ve been through
And now you’ve got hard times
And now you lie still
And you’re fast to the anchor and chain
Broken and tired
Summer winds pass you by
But you’re bound to go sailing again
Well you cleared out of Boothbay on a gentle south swell
With the breeze on your quarter, how that bow rose and fell
There are those who remember so much more than they’ll tell
Oh, all the times you’ve been through
Greenland and Baffin and the white Labrador
In the winds and the terrible show
When they carried their icepicks just to bring you about
In the light from the lanterns below
So rest, Lady, rest from the fog and the gales
Let the harbor protect you let the sun dry your sails
Let a hundred old sailors tell their saltiest tales
Of the hardest of times you’ve been through
And we’ll see your masts mingle with the spruce and the pine
And we’ll bow as we all pass you by
For a boat is more patient than a sailor can be
When the sun and the wind fill his eyes
And now you’ve got hard times……
