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French Perfume Lyrics
It's of a bold young smuggler
From Fortune he did sail
He rode the waves from St. Pierre
And never saw the jail
He filled her up with contraband
Perfume, smokes and rum
He hoped the fog was thick enough
To make another run
Chorus:
You can still see the sight
On a winter's night
Of his wake in the light of the moon
If the wind turns right
If you don't take fright
You can smell that French perfume
But the Mountie boat was waiting
As he crawled up Fordger Bay
And when they hit the spotlight
It was like the light of day
He didn't bring her head round
When they told him to heave to
He opened up the engines
And he ran for Spanish Room
Chorus
They said they heard him laughing
With the Mounties closing in
His engines screaming murder
And his face set in a grin
The seagulls started lifting
Like an angry banshee choir
He hit the rocks at 50 clicks
And the sky lit up with fire
It's of of a bold young smuggler
From Fortune he did sail
He rode the waves from St. Pierre
And he never saw the jail
And when it's cold and foggy
On the rocks near Spanish Room
They say you hear him laughing
And you smell that French perfume
Chorus (2x)
From Fortune he did sail
He rode the waves from St. Pierre
And never saw the jail
He filled her up with contraband
Perfume, smokes and rum
He hoped the fog was thick enough
To make another run
You can still see the sight
On a winter's night
Of his wake in the light of the moon
If the wind turns right
If you don't take fright
You can smell that French perfume
As he crawled up Fordger Bay
And when they hit the spotlight
It was like the light of day
When they told him to heave to
He opened up the engines
And he ran for Spanish Room
With the Mounties closing in
His engines screaming murder
And his face set in a grin
Like an angry banshee choir
He hit the rocks at 50 clicks
And the sky lit up with fire
From Fortune he did sail
He rode the waves from St. Pierre
And he never saw the jail
On the rocks near Spanish Room
They say you hear him laughing
And you smell that French perfume
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Very nice modern day ghost story. The smuggler is running heavily-taxed goods from the French islands of St. Pierre into Newfoundland when he crashes attempting to evade an RCMP patrol boat.
My favourite line is probably "and he never saw the jail" specifically because of the context of its repetition. When it appears in the first verse, it's a testament to his skill as a smuggler. It's repeated rather wistfully in the last verse, lamenting his death rather than praising his ability to evade capture.