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Each morning I wake up at quarter after four,
I gaze out through my window, I pace about the floor;
But I can't go, sweet momma, I can't go,
Out to the fishing grounds, to the fishing grounds no more.
Now the government they done give me four hundred bucks a week,
It keeps food on the table, it patches up the leaks;
But it don't stop this thinking that I didn't choose,
I think they're gonna kill me, those moratorium blues.
I got the blues, the moratorium blues,
I got the blues, the moratorium blues;
I think they're gonna kill me,
Those moratorium blues.
And the wife she gonna drive me from kitchen everyday,
Well, I don't need no pony, no need to do no hay;
The house it has been painted, the nets have all been mend,
So I walk down to the stage, then back to the house again.
Now Brother Bill comes over, and he bring a box of beer,
And we go into the kitchen, we planks down on the chair;
But momma she don't like it, she gets up in a rage,
And she boots us from the kitchen, so back down to the stage.
To sing the blues, the moratorium blues,
To sing the blues, the moratorium blues;
I think they're gonna kill me,
Those moratorium blues.
Yeah, I'm sure they're gonna kill me,
Those moratorium blues.
On July 2, 1992, The Great Northern Cod Fishery, the first of 14 East Coast Ground Fisheries was closed to commercial harvest. A five centuries-old tradition had come to an abrupt and devastating halt. Thousands of people were thrown out of work. Coastal communities, and the people depending on these resources for their livelihood, were numb from shock. Throughout the years of the Moratorium, the fishery became more shellfish dependent, communities got smaller, the landscape of the province was irrevocably altered, and fisheries management was never looked upon in the same way. The road back, the road to rebuilding fish stocks, has been a slow and oftentimes frustrating task.
[E] Each morning, I wake up about quarter after four,
I gaze out of my window, I pace about the floor,
But I can't [A] go, sweet Mama, I can't [E] go
[G] Out to the fishing ground, [A] fishing grounds [E] no more.
[E] Now, the government, they give me four hundred bucks a week
It keeps food on the table, it patches up the leaks,
But it don't [A] stop, this thing I didn't [E] choose,
I [G] think it's gonna kill me, [A] those moratorium [E] blues.
I got the [A] blues, the moratorium [E] blues,
I got the [A] blues, the moratorium [E] blues;
I [G] think they're gonna kill me, [A] those moratorium [E] blues.
[E] The wife she's gonna drive me out of the kitchen everyday,
But I don't need no pony, no need to cut the hay;
The [A] house, it has been painted, the nets have all been mended, [E]
So I [G] walk down to the [A] stage, then back to the house [E] again.
[E] Brother Bill comes over, he brings a box of beer,
We go into the kitchen, planks down on the chair,
But [A] Mama she don't like it, she goes up in a [E] rage,
[G] She boots us out of the kitchen, so [A] back down to the [E] stage.
To sing the [A] blues, the moratorium [E] blues,
To sing the [A] blues, the moratorium [E] blues;
I [G] think they're gonna kill me, [A] those moratorium [E] blues,
I [G] think they're gonna kill me, [A] those moratorium [E] blues.
