Print This Page#00771 Print This Page
I was born on a St. John's street,
Where all my hopes could meet defeat,
And the goals of all my friends was work in Canada;
But soon there'll come a day,
When the young will want to stay,
And learn again to rule their native land.
So, hear me Newfoundland,
It's time to make the last demand,
Gather strength against the force that will surround you;
For the wolf is at your door,
And you've kissed the mainland whore,
The time has come at last to make a stand.
We've sold our souls away,
And the price we've had to pay,
It's not too late to change the sheets we've slept in;
Though our sins have left their stain,
Now, there's nothing left to gain,
My father's pride I cannot yet betray.
We've sold our souls away,
And the tolls are still not paid,
Our children face a life of grim corruption;
So hang our heads in shame,
'Cause we have ourselves to blame,
And hearken to this call for revolution.
