The old man was mending
his net down by the shore
as he had done a thousand times before,
It was an eerie sight you could feel the devil lurking,
There was a hundred boats and only one man working.
The old man looked up and
said the fish are gone, the sea is dead
Ah canna mac a livin,
I have to stand in line to by store bought food,
with money ah’ve been givin
I spent all my life in
search of the northern cod,
I relied on no one but the sea and God,
I always gave much more than taking,
But then came the factory ships from foreign lands
And they came with God forsaken
My father’s father
fished these waters
And his father before him to,
I have fished them all my life
But what will my son do.
For generations we lived by the sea
and the fisherman’s code
But now our children are heading down that road
And they’re never coming back,
They’re going to live in the big city now,
To earn they’re living god knows how.
They’ll be unhappy that’s a fact.
That little village, once
such a proud and busy place,
has been a partner in our fall from grace,
It shows the signs of worry,
They say they’ll make the fish return one day,
I have no faith in what they say,
But if it’s true, for God sakes hurry.
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