Words to Old Newfoundland Songs
Heard Around the Harbor Main Region

P.K. Devine



From fragrant depths of fir and pine,
A thousand odours sweet
Co-mingled on the zephyrs borne,
The wearied senses greet.
The sunset clouds have turned to gold,
The shadows deepen down
The green hillside, while Atra Nox
Prepares her sable gown.

When night spreads its mantle
O'er land and on sea,
>From the depths of the grove
Comes the lilt that I love,
'Tis the call of the Chick-a-dee-dee.

Deep silence in the trembling woods,
And now the whispering breeze
Comes murmuring through the river reeds
And dies among the trees.
>From humble cot in yonder grove
Blue smoke ascends to Heaven,
And incense to the throne of God
For daily mercies given.

Chick-a-dee-dee-dee! etc.

The air is full of peace and love,
The birds have nestled low,
The lumb'rer seeks his humble cot,
The mill has ceased to go.
Along the Gambo valley now
The night has fallen down,
And o'er the fir-clad hill-side green
A silence reigns profound.

Chick-a-dee-dee-dee ! etc.

Still lingering by the lakeside calm
The angler hears a bird
Whose name in ornithology
Perchance was never heard.
It listeth not what family in
The learned would thee class,
We only want to hear thy voice
Among the river grass.

Chick-a-dee-dee-dee! etc.

Oft woodland sights and sounds recall
The feelings of a day,
Merged in the past,when youthful hope
Stood beckoning on the way,
The odours of the firs is sweet,
The eve-note of a bird
Gives throb of pleasure more intense
Than sweetest music heard.

Chick-a-dee-dee-dee! etc.`

Oft thrill ecstatic fires the pulse
With hope too glad for earth,
And tells the soul in heaven above
Such joy can have its birth.
And memory oft deports the the past
Into the present hour,
And plucking out the hurtful thorn
She giveth us the flower.

Chick-a-dee-dee-dee! etc.



Contributed by Martha Warren

Page Revised: July 2002 (Don Tate)

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