When someone died on the Island, a casket would be brought 
     
     over from the mainland. There was no undertaker so the body would 
     
     be ‘done up” by family or friends, and waked in the parlour. I recall 
     
     that large pennies would have to be put on the eyes to keep them 
     
     closed. All women were sent to the grave wearing white gloves. The 
     
     people l remember who died on the Island in my time were Dan John 
     
     MacCormack, who is buried in St. Georges and my uncle Nathan Allen 
     
     who was buried in Georgetown. Nathan died in the early spring of 1939 
     
     when the ice was too soft for the horse and hearse wagon, so the casket 
     
     was put on a wood sleigh and pushed over by hand. My Grandmother, 
     
     Fanny Allen, died in 1937 and is buried in Annandale. She died in May 
     
     during fishing time and her funeral was by boat. I later wrote this song 
     
     about my Grandmother’s funeral. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Now friends if you listen I’ll tell you a song 
     
    

    
     About Boughton Island the place I was born 
     
     Surrounded by water as you see by the name 
     
    

    
     Where one’s heart sometimes longs to go back again 
     
    
   
   
    
     We lived in the center, yet close to the shore 
     
    

    
     Just open the window to hear the surf roar 
     
    

    
     As kids few in numbers we had lots of fun 
     
    

    
     And the old folks joined in when their day‘s work was done 
     
    
   
   
    
     Away from the rat-race we never knew crime 
     
    

    
     There were things we were short of but one was not time 
     
     We had time for pleasure, we found time for fun 
     
    

    
     And always the time when the work must be done 
     
    
   
   
    
     To the oldest one born there I cannot go back 
     
     But the oldest still with us we call him Joe Mac 
     
     Joe left the Island for the first Great World War 
     
     While Islanders hearts were left heavy and sore 
     
    
   
   
    
     But after four years of warfare and strain 
     
    

    
     Joe returned to the Island again 
     
    

    
     Now living in Cardigan some 90 years young 
     
    

    
     He‘s the one left to say how this song should be sung 
     
    
   
   
    
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