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We would stand for hours in the cold and listen to the radio,
On the back porch of my uncle's island home;
And Wheeling, West Virginia, the spirit of soul within ya,
A-playin' country music all night long.
It only seems like yesterday, I could hear my father say,
Old Hank's gettin' better every year;
But that was years ago back when everyone was your bestest friend,
And Newfie outports blossomed everywhere.
Times have changed, the outports are no more,
No sir, not like they used to be with the ocean at the door;
And the smell of seaweed in the morning air,
When Newfie outports blossomed everywhere.
All locations came up with a plan to centralize the fishermen,
By moving them to cities and to towns;
Uprooting our fisherfolk, as many hearts and spirits broke,
To see their outport homes all closing down.
They started mines and factories, instead of oil refineries,
But time has seen it all go down the drain;
I'd trade your cities by the score to walk that rocky, windswept shore,
Feel the salty ocean spray again.
Times have changed, the outports are no more,
No sir, not like they used to be with the ocean at the door;
And the smell of seaweed in the morning air,
When Newfie outports blossomed everywhere.
Times have changed, the outports are no more,
No sir, not like they used to be with the ocean at the door;
And the smell of seaweed in the morning air,
When Newfie outports blossomed everywhere.
When Newfie outports blossomed everywhere.
