The water of the Georgian Bay
Was very rough and shallow
And so upon its highest point
Was placed a barrel of tallow.

This barrel was very special
To a small town with no name
The town became so proud of it
The barrel became its fame.

When the water became rough and dark
And ships out there were lost
The only thing that guided them
Was the light upon the rocks.

I can picture it in my mind
The ships of long ago
Champlain and all his company
Watching for the glow.

They knew the shoals were dangerous
They knew they must be right
And so the burning tallow
Was more than a welcome sight.

Many years have passed since then
And the barrel upon the hill
Is replaced by a modern lighthouse
In the town of Pointe-au-Baril.

The barrel and the tallow
Are memories of the past
But the name tells the story
Will last and last and last.