Shrimp Boat Lullaby

This track comes from Aaron Stransky's core identity — Folly Beach roots, 843 area code, the raw unfiltered version. It tackles Watching the shrimp boats come in at Shem Creek, the tradition, the working watermen, and how their rhythm mirrors the grind. The lyrics get specific — "Four AM departures, and the captain never tells" — because personal tracks on Majik's are personal for real, not performatively. The country production matches the energy of the confession. It hits nostalgic and gentle, in that order. Every personal track in the catalogue comes from a real moment, a real feeling, a real person. This one is no exception.

[verse 1] Shem Creek at five PM, the nets are coming in Draped like wedding veils on the outriggers, thin Silhouettes against the tangerine and pink The captain waves from the wheelhouse, gives a tired wink He's been out since before the sun decided to show Dragging the bottom for the white gold down below Lowcountry shrimp, sweetest thing the ocean grows And he knows every channel, every shoal, every flow Like I know every keyboard shortcut, every code Different crafts, same devotion, same workload [chorus] Shrimp boat lullaby, the diesel engine hums As the fleet comes home beneath the setting sun Nets hanging empty, coolers full of catch Shrimp boat lullaby, there's nothing that can match The sight of working hands that know the water's song Shrimp boat lullaby, carry me along [verse 2] The old guys at the dock remember bigger hauls When the creek was lined with trawlers, mast to mast, wall to wall Now it's restaurants and condos where the net shops used to be But the boats that still go out carry all the history Of a way of life that's tough as oyster shells Four AM departures, and the captain never tells You how hard it really is because the pride runs deep Like the channels that he navigates in his sleep I respect the grind because I know the grind Different ocean, same commitment, same design [chorus] Shrimp boat lullaby, the diesel engine hums As the fleet comes home beneath the setting sun Nets hanging empty, coolers full of catch Shrimp boat lullaby, there's nothing that can match The sight of working hands that know the water's song Shrimp boat lullaby, carry me along [bridge] There's a dignity in working with your hands Whether it's a keyboard or a net across the sand The shrimper and the coder, we're not that different We both chase the catch, we're both persistent We both know the value of the early hour We both taste the salt of dedication's power So I'll raise a glass of sweet tea to the fleet From one grinder to another, meet me at the creek [verse 3] Sunday morning I buy shrimp right off the boat Still jumping in the bucket, barely off the float The deckhand's got sunburn tattoos on his arms And a smile that says this life has all its charms Despite the danger, despite the dwindling pay He'll be back out on the water come Monday's break of day And I'll be back at my keyboard, same devotion Two men working the same stretch of ocean In different ways, for different pays But the sunset treats us both the same these days [chorus] Shrimp boat lullaby, the diesel engine hums As the fleet comes home beneath the setting sun Nets hanging empty, coolers full of catch Shrimp boat lullaby, there's nothing that can match The sight of working hands that know the water's song Shrimp boat lullaby, carry me along [outro] The engines quiet down The nets are hung to dry Another day done on the creek Shrimp boat lullaby