Composed by Stan Rogers | © Fogarty’s Cove Music
It was in the spring this year of grace, with new life pushing through
That I looked from the citadel down to the narrows and asked what it’s coming to
I saw Upper Canadian concrete and glass right down to the water line
And I heard an old song down on Fisherman’s Wharf
Can I sing it just one time
With half-closed eyes against the sun, for the warm wind giving thank
I dreamed of the years of the deep-laden schooners thrashing home from the Grand Banks
The last lies done in the harbour sun with her picture on a dime
I have heard an old song down on Fisherman’s Wharf, can I sing it just one time
And haul away and heave her home, this song is heard no more
No boats to sing them for, no sails to sing them for
There rises now a single tide of tourists passing through
We traded old ways for the new
Old ways for the new
Old ways for the new
For the new
Now you ask “What’s this romantic boy,
Who laments what’s done and gone?”
There was no romance on a cold winter ocean and the gale sang an awful song
But my fathers knew of wind and tide, and my blood is Maritime
And I heard an old song down on Fisherman’s Wharf
Can I sing it just one time