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A fisherman from Placentia Bay,
From an island home he came;
To centralize in Arnold's Cove,
His life to rearrange.
On the fifth day of September,
He towed his dwelling down;
But who should know before the snow,
That in the bay he'd drown?
Before he got established,
In his dwelling in the cove;
He was told there would be work for him,
In Come By Chance, so close.
Although he kept on trying,
For work down at the site;
He knew he'd have to go back home,
To fish up in the bight.
The wind was from the east'ard,
It blew a living gale;
As Bill and brother Richard,
With a load of fish set sail.
Farewell my darlin' Billy,
Friends and loved ones you depart;
No more we'll stand there watching,
When you return at dark.
The friends of Bill and Richard,
They all are silent still;
No more they'll see that fishing boat,
Returning with it's fill.
Stand up Placentia Bay men,
Stand up and fight their game;
For you people from the island homes,
Will make yourselves a name.
For you people from the island homes,
Will make yourselves a name.
