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He sits on a dock lookin' out to the sea,
Heart heavy laden, mind full of memories;
Harbour now empty, no vessels to see,
And sea birds are starving where cod used to be.
He rubs his beard, he moistens his lips,
'Fore I was your age I'd made a hundred trips;
I fished the Grand Banks, the Labrador straits,
With the wind in our sail on that highway of late.
There was a time you could walk 'cross the bay,
And not touch the water along the way;
Fishin' boats tied from stem to stern,
And the squid jiggin' song all us children did learn.
Our hats we take off to the men of the sea,
A way of life lost, now its all history;
So tell your children and their children, too,
What life on that ocean was like for you.
There was a time you could walk 'cross the bay,
And not touch the water along the way;
Fishin' boats tied from stem to stern,
And the squid jiggin' song all us children did learn.
Recorded by Robert Churchill (Mother Of Mine, private label, recorded at Sim's Studio, Belleoram, NL).
