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Come all ye young fellows and list' while I tell,
Of the terrible misfortune that upon me befell;
Centralization they say was the name,
But me, I just calls it the government game.
My name it don't matter, I'm not young anymore,
But in all of my days I'd never been poor;
I'd lived the right good life and not felt no shame,
Till they made me take part in the government game.
My home was St. Kyran's, a heavenly place,
It thrived on the fishin' of a good hearty race;
But now it will never again be the same,
Since they made it a pawn in the government game.
Sure, the government paid us for movin' away,
And leaving our birth place for a better day's pay;
They said that our poor lives would ne'er be the same,
Once we took part in the government game.
It's not many years now since they all moved away,
To places more prosperous way down the bay;
There's not one soul left now, not one who remains,
They've all become part of the government game.
Now St. Kyran's lies there all empty as hell,
Except for the graveyard where our dead parents dwell;
The lives of their children are buried in shame,
They lost out while playing the government game.
To a place called Placentia, well, some of them went,
And in finding a new home their allowances spent;
So for jobs they went lookin' but they looked all in vain,
For the roof had caved in on the government game.
It's surely a sad sight, their movin' around,
A-wishin they still lived by the cod-fishin' ground;
But there's no goin' back, now, there's nothing to gain,
Now that they've played in the government game.
They tell me our young ones the benefits will see,
But I don't believe it - oh, how can it be?
They'll never know nothing but sorrow and shame,
For their fathers were part of the government game.
And when my soul leaves me for the heavens above,
Take me back to St. Kyran's, the place that I love;
And there on my gravestone right next to my name,
Just say I died playing the government game.
