I am surprised and ashamed when I encounter Irish Americans who support Trump’s anti-immigration policy. Thankfully, they don’t appear to be in the majority. I cannot understand their attitude since they are all descendants of people who found refuge in the New World when they were desperate. Their lack of empathy for current migrants, fleeing persecution and economic hardship, is lamentable.
The mass exodus of starving Irish to the USA in the nineteenth century is well documented and the constant stream of Irish emigrating for economic reasons continued well into the 1980s.
However, some of the earliest settlers in North America were young men from the south eastern counties of Ireland who sailed out to Newfoundland in their thousands every summer to fish the massive shoals of cod on the Grand Banks. It began in the mid 1600s and continued for centuries. Over time, more and more of them decided to stay there permanently. This is a fictional song about one of them.
THE SHORES OF NEWFOUNDLAND
© Robbie O’Connell 2003 Slievenamon Music [BMI]
My name is John O’Connell and from Waterford I came
At reading books and schooling now, I never found much fame.
But draggin’ nets and haulin’ ropes, it soon made me a man
And I spent my summers fishing on the shores of Newfoundland.
We sailed out every April, on a cold and biting wind
We fished the Banks for months on end ’til our quota it was filled.
The days were long, the labor hard, and I found out firsthand
That you work for every penny on the shores of Newfoundland.
The shores of Newfoundland, oh the shores of Newfoundland
You work for every penny on the shores of Newfoundland.
One night a sudden storm arose, as I slept down below.
They roused me from my hammock, with loud curses and a blow.
”Get up you crazy Irishman, your station must be manned
Or we’ll never make safe harbor on the shores of Newfoundland.”
All night and day we tossed about like a spar upon the sea
Two of our crew washed overboard and nevermore were seen.
But when the waves subsided and the gales we could withstand
We limped into the closest port on the shores of Newfoundland.
Shores of Newfoundland, oh the shores of Newfoundland
We limped into the closest port on the shores of Newfoundland.
For weeks we walked around St. John’s while we waited on repairs
Then my life was changed forever when I met Kate Riley there.
She stole my heart completely and that I’d never planned
And I could not part from Katie on the shores of Newfoundland.
That winter we were married and we settled in St. John’s
When I returned from sea that fall, I came home to a son.
A daughter and then two more boys soon added to our clan
And I lived my days contented on the shores of Newfoundland.
The shores of Newfoundland, for the shores of Newfoundland
I lived my days contented on the shores of Newfoundland.
Now fifty years have passed and gone here in my new homeland
My sons now fish with their own sons, each one a fine seaman.
I often think of Waterford, but to go back I’ve no plan
And my bones will soon be laid to rest on the shores of Newfoundland.
The shores of Newfoundland, oh the shores of Newfoundland
My bones will soon be laid to rest on the shores of Newfoundland. (2)
Love it!