Thursday, May 3, 2007
O Newfoundland, isle of the sea,
Thou art the gateway to the West;
May all they future destiny
Be free from all that cause unrest.
Around thy rugged sea girt isle,
Lashed by the ocean night and day,
Thy stalwart sons in honest toil
Braves dangers midst the spume and spray.
Thy landlocked harbours, lakes and bays
Lies mirrored 'neath the moonlit sky,
And summer sunsets flaming rays
Gleams on the bold Gafftopsails high.
Thou hast fair towns and paper mills,
With teeming rivers flowing free,
And hamlets nestled 'neath the hills
Where fishing boats puts out to sea.
They headlands bold the storm defies
When towering waves seethes with unrest,
But when at peace the ocean lies,
Seagulls adorn it's placid breast.
Land of the brave, their Island home,
May Providence they future plan,
Where'er they sons and daughters roam,
They'll ne'er forget thee, Newfoundland.
(The Gafftopsails are high mountain peaks)
Photo: Gin Cove, Newfoundland