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Post by Administrator on Jun 20, 2021 14:25:26 GMT
Newfie crew
There they sat at Newfie John, For a little bit of rest. Their holds are filled with war supplies, Their crew among the best.
They'll sail tomorrow little doubt, For distant Liverpool. A tight run ship, well squared away, Always ready is the rule.
They were fishermen and lumber jacks, From the hills and from the shore. They called to them to serve at sea, To even up the score.
Their skipper was a salty sort, Who had been to war before. His father hailed from Corner Brook, His mom from Labradore.
The bosun's home was Port aux Basques, Hard working like the rest. There was no doubt he knew his trade, He was up to any test.
Cookie walked from Rattling Brook, To sign on with the crew. He left a wife and family. Just as others had to do.
That crew came from all over, A happy tight knit band. You may never know about them, They hailed from Newfoundland.
For them few bands were playing, Of the North Atlantic Run. But we who knew them closest, Knew well what they had done.
Ian Adrian Millar
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