On the outermost tip of Rhode Island,
On a snout sticking out in the sea,
Stands a house called "The Good Ship O'Connor,"
As handsome and fine as can be.
There are Jessies in lively abundance,
There are lobsters and rose hips galore,
And under your round tower window,
The oceans converse with the shore.

You can climb on the rocks after mussels,
You can swim into Rhode Island Sound,
You can listen at night time to Harvey
Utter wisdom both loud and profound.
He tilts at the derrick and steeple,
He tells of the old labor wars,
And when he gets tired of people
He goes out and communes with the stars.

When the hurricanes hit Little Compton
The Jessies continue to cook,
And Harvey won't stir from his tower
Cause he has to finish a book.
The waves wash up under the floor boards,
The other townspeople have fled,
But Harvey still pounds the Corona
Cause there's several more things to be said.

In the Summer the Good Ship O'Connor
It seems about ready to sink,
Cause visitors come by the carload
And fill every cranny and chink.
The singers, the high intellectuals,
The fighters for freedom and right,
They all make their way to Sakonnet
And roost in the trees all the night.

They sit on the porch in the evening,
While the shaker of cocktails goes round,
And the flashes of wit from the benches
Illuminate Rhode Island Sound.
Then they feast on the fruits of the garden
And the stripers that come from the sea,
And I hope on the Good Ship O'Connor
There will still be a corner for me.