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Hurrah for our own native isle, Newfoundland!
Not a stranger shall hold one inch of its strand!
Her face turns to Britain, her back to the Gulf,
Come near at your peril, Canadian Wolf!
Ye brave Newfoundlanders who plough the salt sea,
With hearts like the eagle so bold and so free;
The time is at hand when you'll all have to say,
If Confederation will carry the day.
Cheap tea and molasses they say they will give,
All taxes take off that the poor man may live;
Cheap nails and cheap lumber our coffins to make,
And homespun to mend our old clothes when they break.
If they take off the taxes how then will they meet,
The heavy expense of the country's up-keep?
Just give them the chance to get us in the scrape,
And they'll chain us as slaves with pen, ink, and red tape.
Would you barter the right that your fathers have won,
Your freedom transmitted from father to son?
For a few thousand dollars of Canadian gold,
Don't let it be said that your birthright was sold.
See more songs by Joan Morrissey.
Published in Gerald S. Doyle's Old-Time Songs And Poetry Of Newfoundland: Songs Of The People From The Days Of Our Forefathers (Second edition, p.69, 1940).
