| We were far from the shores of England
|
| Far from our children and wives
|
| To play our hand in the Newfoundland
|
| Where the wind cuts like a knife
|
| We were far from the shores of England
|
| We shipped on board the Maryanne
|
| To find a better life
|
| And we walked across the water
|
| When she broke up on the ice
|
| We came ashore in Carbonear
|
| With nothing but our rights
|
| And I wondered if I e’er again
|
| Would see my London lights
|
| We were far from the shores of England
|
| Far from our children and wives
|
| To play our hand in the Newfoundland
|
| Where the wind cuts like a knife
|
| We were far from the shores of England
|
| We spend our days amid the waves
|
| Working water, hook and twine
|
| We would go for weeks with blistered cheeks
|
| Waiting for the sun to shine
|
| But as long as the sky hold over us
|
| We will not taste the brine
|
| And we’ll curse the cod
|
| With the fear of God
|
| As we haul in every line
|
| We were far from the shores of England
|
| Far from our children and wives
|
| To play our hand in the Newfoundland
|
| Where the wind cuts like a knife
|
| We were far from the shores of England
|
| Far from our native soil
|
| To chase a wish and hunt the Fish
|
| And on the rocks to toil
|
| We were far from the shores of England
|
| Should we find Fortune’s Favour
|
| And be spared from the gale
|
| We will live off honest labour
|
| With our hearts as big as sails
|
| But if I should die don’t bury me
|
| Or leave me to the sea
|
| Please send my bones back to my home
|
| Where my spirit can be free
|
| We were far from the shores of England
|
| Far from our children and wives
|
| To play our hand in the Newfoundland
|
| Where the wind cuts like a knife
|
| We were far from the shores of England
|
| Far from our native soil
|
| To chase a wish and hunt the Fish
|
| And on the rocks to toil
|
| We were far from the shores of England |