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Your people came from Ireland,
And fisher folk they'd be;
Of rugged stock from County Cork,
Who took livin' from the sea.
Deep-rooted for a thousand years,
Under Crown and poverty;
Then driven off in the famine years,
To gain their liberty.
They crossed the wild Atlantic,
With half their families;
To the rugged shores of Newfoundland,
Like banished refugees.
For the famine gave them no pain,
Like the sons they'd never see again;
No healing for their broken dreams,
For leaving steals the life it seems.
For leaving steals the life it seems.
Time has cured their hunger,
But not the memories;
For haunting tales rekindled,
In a dying fishery.
You know it breaks your parents' hearts,
For now to see you leave;
But I'll shed no tears till you disappear,
Upon the rolling sea.
Where'er you go, my love, work hard,
And often think of me;
'Tis here I'll stay, now be on your way,
In my heart you'll always be.
This empty ocean gives me no pain,
Like the son I'll never see again;
No healing for the broken dreams,
For leaving steals the life it seems.
For leaving steals the life it seems.
