Oh the breeze is blowin’ balmy
And the sun is in a haze;
There’s a coud jest givin’ coolness,
To the laziest of days.
There are crowds upon the lakeside,
But the fish refuse to bite,
So I’ll wait and go a-fishin’
When the wind gets right.
Now my boat tugs at her anchor,
Eager now to kiss the spray,
While the little waves are callin’
Drowsy sailor come away,
There’s a harbor for the happy,
And its sheen is just in sight,
But I won’t set sail to get there,
Till the wind gets right.
That’s my trouble, too, I reckon,
I’ve been waitin’ all too long,
Tho’ the days were always
Still the wind is always wrong.
An when Gabriel blows his trumpet,
In the day o’ in the night,
I will still be found waitin’,
Till the wind gets right.
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