I was ^D born un-^G der the ^D star, never ^A meant to journey ^Bm far ^G Away from the ^D faces and the place that I called ^A home; ^G ^A And my ^D father ^G was the ^D same and his ^A father before ^Bm him, ^G But now I ^D see in my son's eyes something has ^A changed.

And the ^Bm smoke it has stopped ^A rising from the ^G chimney up the ^D road, And the light no longer ^A shines over the ^G door; Last ^Bm year I lent a ^A hand to haul the ^Bm boats onto the ^Em land, They've been ^D lying there for ^A nineteen months or ^Bm more, ^G And I ^D wonder will they ^A lie there ever^D more?

Wasn't ^D many ^G years a-^D go that the ^A men 'round here would ^Bm go ^G Out on their ^D skiffs and haul their traps out on the ^A bay; ^G ^A And then ^D shortly ^G they'd re-^D turn loaded ^A down from stem to ^Bm stern, ^G And weigh ^D off the fish, and store their gear a-^A way.

Now the ^Bm waters are as ^A barren as the ^G cliffs that guard the ^D cove And catch the north wind ^A blowing off the ^G shore; And I ^Bm wonder how an o-^A cean turns as ^Bm lifeless as a ^Em stone, And I ^D wonder can the ^A sea revive once ^Bm more? ^G And I ^D wonder will they ^A lie there ever^D more?

Well I ^D hear some ^G people ^D say, we'd be ^A better off to ^Bm stay ^G Ashore and ^D train for jobs outside the fishe-^A ry ^G ^A Now wouldn't ^D I look ^G like a ^D fool to go ^A traipsing off to ^Bm school, ^G After ^D forty years of living off the ^A sea?

Now, my ^Bm son, he's barely ^A twenty-one, and ^G handy at the ^D trawl, For years he helped me ^A fish the Labra-^G dor Now he's ^Bm moving to Onta-^A rio be-^Bm fore the first snow-^Em fall "Dad, there's ^D nothing left for ^A me 'round here no ^Bm more" ^G And I ^D wonder will I ^A see his children ^Bm born? ^G And I ^D wonder will they ^A lie there ever ^D more? ^G ^D

D'Arcy Broderick - Will they lie there ever more