A song for those who work the dangerous sea
Former New York Times reporter records a song inspired by the tragic loss of Maine fishermen
Aug. 3, 2026
By John Boit
Lobster is synonymous with Maine, but the often dangerous haul it takes to bring it to dinner plates prompted a downeast man and former journalist to write a song remembering those who died for catch.
Andy Revkin, who worked as New York Times reporter for more than two decades, moved to Lamoine in 2022 to be closer to his wife’s mother, a Winter Harbor native.
His song “For Those Who Work the Sea" highlights the dangers faced by Maine’s commercial fishermen, “and the haunting losses that have steadily added names to the memorial stones in Lubec and elsewhere,” Revkin told The Rising Tide.
The song evokes the socially conscious style of folk legend Pete Seeger, with whom Revkin has performed several times. He has also created a video to go along with the song.
Revkin created a video to accompany his song about the dangerous work of fishing.
“So as you dine on lobster tails while sipping fine Chablis / Raise a glass and say a prayer for those who work the sea,” Revkin sings.
The song grew out of an assignment at a songwriting workshop run by Noel Paul Stookey and the late George Emlen at the Word Festival in Blue Hill last year.
“George asked us each to build a song around some household sound (like the beep beep when a fridge door stays open too long). I went for our neighbor's wind chimes,” Revkin said.
Revkin says fishing tragedies are “deeply personal for too many families and communities.” Photo courtesy of Andy Revkin.
“I combined that haunting sound, the sad stories of losses at sea and my guitar tuned to DADGAD (a popular tuning for Celtic-tinged music) and the result was an early draft,” Revkin said. “The song evolved steadily and I recorded the final version a couple of weeks ago in the Belfast home studio of Lincoln Clapp. The masterful young fiddler Gus La Casse came in to add wonderful flourishes.”
Revkin writes on his Substack page that the fishing industry’s “human cost is deeply personal for too many families and communities along the state’s 3,478 miles of coastline. Several times a year, local headlines, and sometimes national headlines, focus on the loss at sea of lobster, scallop, and fishing crew members when storms, fog, accidents, faulty gear or faulty boatmanship conspire. Nationally, commercial fishing is second only to logging on the Bureau of Labor Statistics list of deadliest jobs.”
Such is the case of Michaud, who fished out of Steuben. He went to sea alone on July 21, 2023 and never returned. The 18-year-old’s body was found a month later. He had planned to attend Maine Maritime Academy in Castine that fall.
In 2025, Tylar’s aunt, Liz Michaud, launched a nonprofit educational organization, Green and White Hope, focused on saving the lives of commercial fishermen through safety, training, drills and other work. Now Revkin is using the song to raise funds for the Maine-based organization.
Tragedies are all too well known in the fishing industry. In January, a father and son, Chester and Aaron Barrett, were moving their 34-foot scallop boat along the downeast coast and didn’t make it to port. The boat was found by an underwater search team, along with the father’s body.
In April, Jaxson Marston, a 26-year-old crewman on a Maine-based scallop dragger working in waters off Massachusetts, died when he was struck by a snapped rope.
State officials last summer proclaimed July 21 Maine Commercial Fishing Remembrance Day.
The lyrics to Revkin’s song are below. More of Revkin’s music may be found on his Substack page.
For Those Who Put to Sea
For those who dine on lobster tails while sipping fine Chablis Here’s a song about the cost of harvesting the sea.
Way Down East a rugged fleet hauls bounty from the sea.
But drop your guard, life will be hard. The ocean you must heed.
When storm gusts howl and chimes ring foul there is no time for sleep. The sea will steal all that you love and sink it in the deep. In the deep.
Rope snaps like a shotgun blast. Wave strikes and a boat sinks fast. Boot slips and a stern man’s lost at sea. Don’t drop your guard. The ocean you must heed.
Rope snaps like a shotgun blast. Wave strikes and a boat sinks fast. Boot slips and a stern man’s lost at sea. Don’t drop your guard. The ocean you must heed. You must heed.
On granite slabs in old Lubec new names are etched with old, Of fishing friends and family lost amid their toil.
Teen drowned pulling traps alone. Dragger flipped in a storm. Dad and son on a scallop run never made it home. Made it home.
Rope snaps like a shotgun blast. Wave strikes and a boat sinks fast. Boot slips and a stern man’s lost at sea. Don’t drop your guard. The ocean you must heed.
Rope snaps like a shotgun blast. Wave strikes and a boat sinks fast. Boot slips and a stern man’s lost at sea. Don’t drop your guard. The ocean you must heed.
Even with the dangers and the fog and chill and chores,
The sea calls to a special crew who love life far from shore.
So as you dine on lobster tails while sipping fine Chablis,
Raise a glass and say a prayer for those who work the sea.
Way Down East a rugged fleet hauls bounty from the sea.
But drop your guard, life will be hard. The ocean you must heed.
Revkin, left, playing with Pete Seeger, right, and Gus La Casse in 2010. Photo courtesy of Andy Revkin.
