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Well, there we are, boys, just a-gleaming in the sun,
The big boy in charge taking fish every one;
We'll just have to wait and see what's left behind,
So we can have our quotas to satisfy their mind.
Fisherman, fisherman,
You are the pride of Newfoundland;
Together, together be so proud to stand,
So, come on and shout it out if you're a fisherman.
Trawlers tied up and their fish plant closed down,
Our plant workers and fishermen are pushed into the ground;
We'll have to fight it now for tomorrow it's too late,
Let's hold onto tradition for our kids' and fathers' sake.
Fisherman, fisherman,
You are the pride of Newfoundland;
Together, together be so proud to stand,
So, come on and shout it out if you're a fisherman.
We can't let it happen, we have too much to lose,
They gotta give our fish back, they just can't refuse;
We'll pull up our hip rubbers and keep fighting like before,
We'll fish out on the Grand Banks and down off Labrador.
Fisherman, fisherman,
You are the pride of Newfoundland;
Together, together be so proud to stand,
So, come on, shout it out if you're a fisherman.
Fisherman, fisherman,
You are the pride of Newfoundland;
Together, together be so proud to stand,
So, come on and shout it out if you're a fisherman.
Recorded by Junior Walsh (A Letter To Mom Up In Heaven, trk#6, 2000, recorded at Sim's Studio, Belleorum, NL).
