"Like ducklings have their imprinting, men are born to love their native land."
Jun 21st 2005, 2:50 am
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"Like ducklings have their imprinting, men are born to love their native land."
So are tatters of Empire part of the Britons native lands?
Canadian Railroad Trilogy: Gordon Lightfoot.
There was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run.
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun.
Long before the white man and long before the wheel.
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
But time has no beginnings and history has no bounds.
As to this verdant country they came from all around.
They sailed upon her waterways and they walked the forests tall.
Built the mines, the mills and the factories for the good of us all.
And when the young man's fancy had turned into the spring.
The railroad men grew restless for to hear the hammers ring.
And their minds were overflowing with the visions of their day.
With many a fortune won and lost and many a debt to pay.
For they looked in the future and what did they see.
They saw an iron road running from the sea to the sea,
Bringing the goods to a young growing land.
All up from the seaports and into their hands.
"Look away," said they, "across this mighty land.
"From the eastern shore to the western strand."
Bring in the workers and bring up the rails.
We gotta lay down the tracks and tear up the trails.
Open her heart, let the life blood flow.
Gotta get on our way 'cos we're moving too slow.
Bring in the workers and bring up the rails.
We gotta lay down the tracks and tear up the trails.
Open her heart, let the life blood flow.
Gotta get on our way 'cos we're moving too slow.
Get on our way 'cos we're moving too slow.
Behind the blue Rockies the sun is declining,
The stars, they come stealing at the close of the day.
Across the wide prairie, our loved ones lie sleeping.
Beyond the dark oceans in a place far away.
We are the navvies who work upon the railway.
Swinging our hammers in the bright blazing sun.
Livin' on stew and drinking bad whiskey.
Bending our backs 'til the long days are done.
We are the navvies who work upon the railway.
Swingin' our hammers in the bright blazing sun.
Laying down track and building the bridges.
Bending our old backs 'til the railroad is done.
So over the mountains and over the plains,
Into the Muskag and into the rain.
Up the St. Lawrence all the way to Gaspe.
Swinging our hammers and drawing our pay.
Driven' 'em in and tying' 'em down.
Away to the bunkhouse and into the town.
A dollar a day and a place for my head.
A drink to the living and a toast to the dead.
Oh, the song of the future has been sung.
All the battles have been won.
On the mountain tops we stand.
All the world at our command.
We have opened up the soil.
With our teardrops and our toil.
For there was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run.
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun.
Long before the white man and long before the wheel.
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
And many are the dead men
Too silent to be real.
Canadian Railroad Trilogy: Gordon Lightfoot.
There was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run.
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun.
Long before the white man and long before the wheel.
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
But time has no beginnings and history has no bounds.
As to this verdant country they came from all around.
They sailed upon her waterways and they walked the forests tall.
Built the mines, the mills and the factories for the good of us all.
And when the young man's fancy had turned into the spring.
The railroad men grew restless for to hear the hammers ring.
And their minds were overflowing with the visions of their day.
With many a fortune won and lost and many a debt to pay.
For they looked in the future and what did they see.
They saw an iron road running from the sea to the sea,
Bringing the goods to a young growing land.
All up from the seaports and into their hands.
"Look away," said they, "across this mighty land.
"From the eastern shore to the western strand."
Bring in the workers and bring up the rails.
We gotta lay down the tracks and tear up the trails.
Open her heart, let the life blood flow.
Gotta get on our way 'cos we're moving too slow.
Bring in the workers and bring up the rails.
We gotta lay down the tracks and tear up the trails.
Open her heart, let the life blood flow.
Gotta get on our way 'cos we're moving too slow.
Get on our way 'cos we're moving too slow.
Behind the blue Rockies the sun is declining,
The stars, they come stealing at the close of the day.
Across the wide prairie, our loved ones lie sleeping.
Beyond the dark oceans in a place far away.
We are the navvies who work upon the railway.
Swinging our hammers in the bright blazing sun.
Livin' on stew and drinking bad whiskey.
Bending our backs 'til the long days are done.
We are the navvies who work upon the railway.
Swingin' our hammers in the bright blazing sun.
Laying down track and building the bridges.
Bending our old backs 'til the railroad is done.
So over the mountains and over the plains,
Into the Muskag and into the rain.
Up the St. Lawrence all the way to Gaspe.
Swinging our hammers and drawing our pay.
Driven' 'em in and tying' 'em down.
Away to the bunkhouse and into the town.
A dollar a day and a place for my head.
A drink to the living and a toast to the dead.
Oh, the song of the future has been sung.
All the battles have been won.
On the mountain tops we stand.
All the world at our command.
We have opened up the soil.
With our teardrops and our toil.
For there was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run.
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun.
Long before the white man and long before the wheel.
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
And many are the dead men
Too silent to be real.
