I was born under the star, never meant to journey far
From all the faces and the place that I called home;
And my father lived the same, and his father before him,
But now I see in my son’s eyes something has changed.

And the smoke it has stopped rising from the chimney up the road,
And the light no longer shines over the door;
Last year I lent a hand to haul the boats onto the land,
They’ve been lying there for nineteen months or more,
And I wonder will they lie there evermore?

Wasn’t many years ago that the men ’round here would go
Out in their skiffs and haul their traps out on the bay;
And then shortly they’d return loaded down from stem to stern,
And weigh off the fish, and store their gear away.

Now the waters are as barren as the cliffs that guard the cove
And catch the north wind blowing off the shore;
And I wonder how an ocean turns as lifeless as a stone,
And I wonder can the sea revive once more?
And I wonder will they lie there evermore?

Well, I hear some people say we’d be better off to stay
Ashore and train for jobs outside the fishery;
Now wouldn’t I look like a fool to go traipsing off to school,
After forty years of living off the sea?

Now, my son, he’s barely twenty-one, and handy at the trawl,
For years he helped me fish the Labrador;
Now he’s moving to Ontario before the first snowfall,
“Dad, there’s nothing left for me ’round here no more.”
And I wonder will I see his children born?
And I wonder will they lie there evermore?

Here’s a link to this sad song of the demise of the Newfoundland fishery, sung by the beautiful voice of Con O’Brien (Irish Descendants) …. enough to bring a tear … https://youtu.be/sWomh7cogK0