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In a dreary foreign prison,
Sat a young and scared Canadian boy;
For a crime they found him guilty,
And the judge said, "You must die."
By his side, a priest was standing,
Father, will my soul be lost?
I'm so far from home and loved ones,
Will my soul pass through the East Coast?
Will my soul pass through the East Coast,
Through New Brunswick, the land so free?
There's so much I want to see there,
Will the good Lord really wait for me?
Will I see Prince Edward Island,
Will I touch the sandy shore?
Oh, Father, tell me truly,
Will my soul pass through the East Coast?
Will I pass through Nova Scotia,
Will I see Cape Breton Isle?
Will I see familiar faces,
I remember as a child?
Will I pass through old Newfoundland,
Will I see the mighty fishing boats?
Oh, Father, tell me truly,
Will my soul pass through the East Coast?
Was for the love of the East Coast,
In the war my father died;
And I swear by all its people,
I'm not guilty of this crime.
Would you please write to my mother,
Tell her that my soul's not lost?
Will I see my Mama's cabin,
Will my soul pass through the East Coast?
I pray God will let me linger,
At Mama's door, down in the East Coast.
