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It was cold, it was night |
with wind force 8, |
an alarm blared on the radio. |
"We fight in the spray, |
but don't make it!" - |
That's what you got. |
Despite the pitch black night, |
the rescuers were awake, |
because help is needed outside. |
And the team drove off, |
their concern was great, |
many a prayer was breathed. |
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Then the ride 'cross the mudflats, |
further out of the gate, |
through waves as hard as rock. |
Here in fight with the sea |
some men hoped they'd soon |
will be back home again. |
A flickering light! |
They weren't wrong, |
a boat was visible ahead. |
The cutter lay sideways, |
swayed hard left and right - |
My God, fishermen are in danger here! |
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and back on land |
where the sailors' home stood, |
people walked about in despair. |
They clenched their hands |
and listened intently |
to the noise of the radio. |
As the sun rised up |
and every hope vanished, |
a radio message came in: |
"This is Capt'n Jan Klee! |
The fishermen are ok! |
We'll get back soon!" |
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Aus Respekt vor den Seenotrettern! |
Gesang: | Achim, Michael B., Helmuth, Hinni, Rudolf, Joki, Willi |
Gitarre, Fiddel, Flöte, Akkordeon, Drums: | Achim |
Bass: | Michael B. |
Arrangement: | Achim Bahrenberg |
Aufnahme, Bearbeitung, Studio- und Mastermix: | TSDG1 |