Heave Ho!  Another harvest reaped
Cod nearly an arm long
Into the hold, more fish are heaped.
Like generations untold,
These men, their families all have given
Their strength, grit, their soul
Way out on the Grand Banks
Laboring tirelessly in the cold.

And to Trinity Bay they return
Surfing with the waves,
Their roaring diesels churn
With seabirds circling overhead
Around the point and mark the turn
Hopes are high on a rolling beam,
By God, by cod, it’s Newfoundland
My rock island home and dream.

Written years after collapse and moratorium of the Northern cod fishery in Newfoundland.

           

 

 

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