In the little coves and inlets
All along our rugged shore
There beside the mighty ocean
With its mighty thunderous roar
Dwell a race of hardy seamen
Facing danger every day
Fishing for the wily codfish
On the grounds and in the bay.
In their little boats and dories
They will venture far from land
Often times without an engine
Just the brawny arms of man
They must row their boats to safety
Fighting heavy wind and sea
Often hours without a let up
Toiling hard and meanfully.
Those with motorboats may linger
Longer on the fishing ground
Depending solely on their engines
Fishing all the season round
Some with trawls & more with hand-lines
Catching cod the whole day through
Thinking nothing of the hardships
They endure while on the blue.
From the dawn ‘till dark of evening
One can see those little boats
When you're looking on the ocean
Just like tiny toys afloat
Maybe you may think and wonder
If a stranger to the shore
At the courage of those seamen
And the hardships they endure.
They must face all winds and weather
Chilly fog and bitter cold
All day long they rise the hand-lines
Or the trawls those seamen bold
Depending solely on the codfish
They must fish the season round
For the life blood of their families
Be there on the fishing ground.
Tried and tested on the ocean
Every boy becomes a man
He must do his share of labour
On the sea and on the land
For the fisher is part farmer
When on land he toils all day
Growing crops to feed his family
And to help his debts to pay.
I remember in my boyhood
Of an uncle old of mine
He would venture on the ocean
For to fish with hook and line
In a little fifteen footer
Rigged with mainsail jib and boom
Tossed about just like a toy boat
Out there in the ocean's gloom.
I can still recall to memory
Many times we gazed to see
Wondering where could be this brave man
With his boat of mystery
When a speck near the horizon
Would unfold before our eyes
Battling bravely with the rough seas
And the wind from stormy skies.
Just a lone man on the ocean
In a boat so weak and small
Braving seas and stormy weather
Catching cod with line and trawl
There is no need to tell you further
Of the bravery of this man
And his equals there are plenty
In the Isle of Newfoundland.
What a thrill it was to watch him
With the tiller in his hand
Keeping full the jib and mainsail
When be backed from off the land
No matter what the kind of weather
When the other boats could go
Nothing daunted he would follow
Though the stormy wind did blow.
Many are the tales and stories
Told of bravery on the sea
And the sufferings of our seamen
Are wrote down in history
None can doubt their pluck & courage
They have stood the greatest test
On the bloody fields of battle
They were "Better Than The Best."