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He's a heavy six-foot-two and he can take one on the chin,
His glossy eyes can tell no lies when he's got his six beers in;
Got a flight to Fort McMurray to make money for a ring,
Swore to Jesus, Mary and Joseph that he'd see her in the spring;
Oh, spring has turned to summer and to a dozen falls,
A lot of times he wonders if he'll make it home at all.
He's got a tattoo on his shoulder of the Pink, White and Green,
He's never learned O, Canada or God Save The Queen;
He's a fish out of water, a dog without a bone,
He's a rovin' Newfoundlander and he's workin' his way home.
At the happy hour sessions he's the first to buy a round,
He can tell a joke or take one just don't try to bring him down;
Never one to start a row but end one pretty fast,
Don't take a poke at Newfoundland, you might have poked your last;
He's waiting for the tide to turn, the drought to come undone,
He's waiting for that call from home, the call that never comes.
He's got a tattoo on his shoulder of the Pink, White and Green,
He's never learned O, Canada or God Save The Queen;
He's a fish out of water, a dog without a bone,
He's a rovin' Newfoundlander and he's workin' his way home.
He's got a tattoo on his shoulder of the Pink, White and Green,
He's never learned O, Canada or God Save The Queen;
He's a fish out of water, a dog without a bone,
He's a rovin' Newfoundlander and he's workin' his way home.
He's a rovin' Newfoundlander and he's workin' his way home.
