Come and gather 'round me people. And a tale to you I'll tell. Of my father and his father. In the days before the spill. With an endless sky above 'em. And a restless sea below. And every blessin' flowing from the gulf of mexico. From my granddad with the shrimp boats. From the time that he was grown. And he scrimped and saved and bought himself. A trawler of his own. He was rough and he was ready. And he drank when he was home. And he made his family's living on the gulf of mexico. We were rolling. We were rolling. Past the deep blue water. He was rolling. Well my daddy drove a crew boat. Hauling workers to the rigs. He was sick of mending nets. And couldn't stand the smell of fish. He drew a steady paycheck. 20 Years at texico. When he died they spread his ashes. On the gulf of mexico. We were rolling. We were rolling. Past the deep green water. He was rolling. As for me I think of nothing. Any grander than the day. That I stepped out on the drillin' floor. To earn a roughneck's pay. Then one night I swear I saw the devil. Crawlin' from the hole. And he spilled the guts. Of hell out in the gulf of mexico. We were rolling. We were rolling. 'Cross the blood red water. We were rolling