By David Allan Coe

Dedicated to the wife's of sailors everywhere and to the grandfather who never got to hear my stories and songs.

YOU KNOW, AS A CHILD, HE HEARD TELL OF THE SEVEN MILE BRIDGE

THAT CONNECTED ON MARATHON SHORE

YES, AND IT WAS THE GATEWAY KEY WEST HIS GRANDPA

HAD TOLD HIM TEN TIMES OR MORE.

THE STORIES OF SOME SAILORS CURSE ON THE BRIDGE

WHERE IT OPENS TO LET THE BOATS THROUGH

BUT THE NATIVES ALL LAUGH AT GRANDPAS OLD STORIES

AND SWEAR THAT IT JUST ISN'T TRUE


NOW MOST OF THEM SAIL ACROSS TO MIAMI

FROM THE EDGE OF THE BLUE WATER LINE

WITH CRAWFISH AND SNAPPERS TO SELL AT THE MARKET

FOR MONEY TO SPEND ON SOME WINE

THEY ALWAYS CROSS THROUGH AT THE SEVEN MILE BRIDGE

EXCEPT WHEN THE MOON COMES OUT FULL

THEY'RE NOT SUPERSTITIOUS THEY TELL YOU AS THEY ARE

REPEATING THAT OLD SEAMAN'S RULE


WATCH OUT FOR THOSE OUTLAWS AND PIRATES

LORD KNOWS THAT THEY'LL STEAL YOU BLIND

DON'T MESS AROUND WITH THOSE CUTTHROATS AND THIEVES

THEY'RE ROBBERS AND KILLERS OF TIME

AND THERE'S NOTHING WORSE THAN AN OLD SAILORS CURSE

ON THE SEVEN MILE BRIDGE WHERE YOU FIND

THEY'RE STEALING THE FUTURE AND MAKING BELIEVE

THE PAST IS STILL SOMEWHERE BEHIND

THE SEVEN MILE BRIDGE , THE SEVEN MILE BRIDGE


AND HE FOUND A WOMAN WHO'D COME HERE FROM CUBA

SHE GAVE HIM A SON AND A DREAM

THEY LIVED IN A CONCH HOUSE SOMEWHERE ON STOCK ISLAND

WITH THE SEVEN MILE BRIDGE IN BETWEEN

SHED SPENT HER NIGHTS ON THE WINDOW WALK WONDERING

IF HE'D SAFELY PULL THROUGH THE STORM

WHILE HE SPENT HIS MONEY ON PAINTED UP WOMEN

AND WHISKY TO KEEP HI BLOOD WARM

THEN HE'D GAMBLE ON CRAB RACES TILL HE WAS BROKE

WHILE SHE SAT UP WAITING ALL NIGHT

THEN FELLING TOO GUILTY TO FACE HER AND TELL HER

HE'D LOOK FOR SOME BULLY TO FIGHT


AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW WHERE THE SUN ALWAYS SHINES

JUST SOUTH OF THE SEVEN MILE BRIDGE

SHE WAITS AT THE WINDOW FOR SIGNS OF HIS SAILBOAT

AND TRIES NOT TO WORRIED THE KIDS

SHE SNEAKS A FEW DRINKS FROM THE BOTTLE SHE HIDES

FROM A HUSBAND THAT'S TO TIRED TO THINK

WITH FEELINGS OF GUILT SHE PICKS UP THE BOTTLE

AND POURS THE REMAINS IN THE SINK

NOW SHE THINKS OF THE MEN THAT STARE AT HER BOLDLY

THEY KNOW SHE'S A WOMAN ALONE

WITH FINGERS THAT TREMBLE SHE TOUCHES HER BODY

AND WISHES HER MAN WOULD COME HOME


NOW THE YEARS PASS SO QUICKLY FOR TIME IS A THIEF

HIS SKIN LOOKS LIKE LEATHER BY NOW

HIS WOMAN'S GOT FAT AND LOST ALL HER BEAUTY

BUT, LORD, SHE'S LIVED UP TO HER VOW

SHE LOOKS AT HER SON THAT'S GOING ON TWENTY

HE'S READY TO LIVE HIS OWN LIFE

SHE HOPES HE CAN FIND A SEA WORTHY WOMAN

A SAILOR SURE NEEDS A GOOD WIFE

WHY HE'S JUST LIKE HIS DADDY, SHE THINKS AS SHE WATCHES

HIM WEAVING THOSE FISH NETS ALL DAY

KNOWING THAT SOME TIME THE SEVEN MILE BRIDGE

WILL TAKE HIM AND LEAD HIM ASTRAY

HE MIGHT RETURN HIS WOMAN WOULD LEARN

BROKE LIKE HIS DADDY AND DRUNK

SHE WROTE DOWN SOME WORDS ON AN OLD PIECE OF SAIL CLOTH

NAILED IT OVER HIS BUNK

WHY THEN, SHE PACKED HIS SEA BAG AND FILLED UP HIS TRUNK

HIS NEW WIFE WOULD WANT IT THAT WAY

JUST BEFORE THE OLD MAN SHOOK THE YOUNGER LADS HAND

THESE ARE THE WORDS HE DID SAY