Canadian Boat Song
Anonymous
Listen to me, as when ye heard our father
Sing long ago the song of other shores -
Listen to me, and then in chorus gather
All your deep voices as ye pull the oars;
Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.
From the lone shieling of the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas -
Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland,
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.
Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.
We ne'er shall tread the fancy-haunted valley,
Where 'tween the dark hills creeps the small clear stream,
In arms around the patriarch banner rally,
Nor see the moon on royal tombstone gleam.
Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.
When the bold kindred, in the time long-vanished,
Conquered the soil and fortified the keep,
No seer foretold the children would be banished,
That a degenerate lord might boast his sheep.
Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.
Come foreigner rage - let Discord burst in slaughter!
O then for clansmen true, and stern claymore -
-The hearts that would have given their blood like water
Beat heavily beyond the Atlantic roar.
Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.
Cape Breton 2009
Anonymous
Listen to me, as when ye heard our father
Sing long ago the song of other shores -
Listen to me, and then in chorus gather
All your deep voices as ye pull the oars;
Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.
From the lone shieling of the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas -
Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland,
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.
Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.
We ne'er shall tread the fancy-haunted valley,
Where 'tween the dark hills creeps the small clear stream,
In arms around the patriarch banner rally,
Nor see the moon on royal tombstone gleam.
Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.
When the bold kindred, in the time long-vanished,
Conquered the soil and fortified the keep,
No seer foretold the children would be banished,
That a degenerate lord might boast his sheep.
Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.
Come foreigner rage - let Discord burst in slaughter!
O then for clansmen true, and stern claymore -
-The hearts that would have given their blood like water
Beat heavily beyond the Atlantic roar.
Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.
Cape Breton 2009
Most of my very large family lives in Newfoundland. My parents were born, raised and married there, had 2 sons there, moved to Alberta for jobs, and then had me.
ReplyDeleteI was born and raised in the prairies.
For somebody who has never lived in NF, I feel like that's where my heart is. Where my real home is.
I hope someday to convince my cowboy husband that the east coast is where we really belong...
:)