The Blue Tarp Flag (Downeast Royalty)
Downeast Royalty
Flapping in the salty breeze over cordwood, broken ATVs, and the spirit of everyone who has ever called this coastline home. Maine pride, unfiltered.
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[Verse 1] Sun comes up through the coastal fog, the mud is freezing solid Lacing up the insulated boots, yeah, keeping it methodical Corner store is open, grabbing coffee in a Styrofoam cup Got a white-paper ham Italian, gonna fuel the morning up Throwing off the blankets, it’s a frosty Maine dawn Looking out the window at the kingdom on my lawn Ain’t a blade of grass to see beneath the rusted-out machines Just a monument to working hard and living in betweens
[Chorus] Yeah, we’re flying that blue tarp flag, flapping in the salty breeze From the cordwood to the skiff, to the broken ATVs Drinking Moxie by the gallon, grilling snappers cherry red With a “shoulda bought it when I saw it” echoing inside my head We’re the kings of the dirt roads, surviving black fly bites Downeast royalty living for them rowdy Friday nights
[Verse 2] Summer rolls around, the Massholes cross the border line Doing forty-five on Route 1, looking at the pines Riding my tailgate, asking for directions to the pier I just tip my faded cap and tell ‘em, “Bub, you can’t get there from here” Got the snowmobile parked right next to the lobster traps Even though the only thing I catch is a wicked afternoon nap Got the heater blasting, got my ripped up flannels on I’m hitting up a Reny’s run before the deals are gone
[Chorus] Yeah, we’re flying that blue tarp flag, flapping in the salty breeze From the cordwood to the skiff, to the broken ATVs Drinking Moxie by the gallon, grilling snappers cherry red With a “shoulda bought it when I saw it” echoing inside my head We’re the kings of the dirt roads, surviving black fly bites Downeast royalty living for them rowdy Friday nights
[Verse 3] Now it’s time to mix the Champagne of Maine, pour it in a plastic cup That Allen’s Coffee Brandy always keeps my spirits up Splashing in the whole milk, yeah, we’re drinking it right down And it packs a heavy punch when we’re tearing up the town From the Ellsworth city limits to the deepest logging track Once you get this mud on your tires, you ain’t never going back