©1999 Jules Gouin Music
Designed by The Wing
Designed by The Wing
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Sindbads Friday night at Sindbad's it was pushing 2:00 a.m. Willie the bartender said it's closing time my friend The fog came drifting in the harbour lights were growing dim From the riggings of the ships, you could hear the whispering The sky got dark and cloudy and the rain began to fall The ghost-like masts were swaying as the wind began to howl The waves were rolling higher, as Sindbad closed her doors The patrons gazed out anxiously, these sailors knew the score Lightning flashed across the sky as they headed for the pier The friendly lights of Sindbads, all but disappeared Good luck cries rang out from men in voices touched with fear As they climbed aboard their sailing craft, disaster seemed so near Chorus Sailor, Sailor, don't go home tonight The north wind's blowing and the waves unleash their might Those cold, black waters wait for you, they'll steal you if they can They'll pull you in, drag you down, you're not immortal man They ease out of the harbour and slowly make their way They wave goobye to friends on shore, for each man we will pray The wind tears at their sails as they fade into the night You can hear a lonely fog-horn moan, to remind us of their plight It's Saturday at Sindbads and it's pushing 2:00 a.m. Willie the bartender said it's closing time my friend The storm is all forgotten, the men all won their war They swallow down their final drink, and head on out the door Chorus © 1999 Bill Drouillard, Drouillard Pub. Inc. SOCAN 
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