Back Home on the Island

Back home on the island people
are remembering another day,
It used to be a place where
the fishermen gathered,
In their oilskins on the bay;
Those tired nights 'round a warm wood stove,
And that old sou'wester how she really blow,
In every harbour and every cove,
Like the devil outside your door.

Back home on the island
people are watching the sun go down,
It used to be a mighty good fishing ground,
Twill never be the same again;
'Cause all the trawlers came, picked it clean,
What was left of the pickings was a little to lean,
Now Lukey's old boat is just a pale shade of green,
She's laying upon the sand.

And if you think that's a joke,
well let me tell you, brother,
That I don't see nothing to laugh about,
You better get out while you think still can;
I hear they got a few jobs left on the mainland.

Back home on the island
people awaken to another day,
They're thinking that there's got to be a better way,
Than just drawing that welfare pay;
And all the kids are at school
so they don't get fooled,
And they won't be depending on those fishing tools,
They'll do just as good as any golden rule,
After everything's said and done.

So you go downtown and you stand and stare,
While you chug-a-lug a mug of that Canadian beer,
And you laugh out loud like you
were some kind a lucky man,
You keep on moving in droves to the mainland.

Back home on the island
people are remembering a better day,
It used to be a place where the fishermen gather,
Now it's only memories;
So we can all drink a toast to the boys on the hill,
'Cause they didn't give a damn and they never will,
But they lived here then and
they'll be living here still,
Just watching that ocean roar.