Dear Old Bay Bulls Town

On the Southern Shore of Newfoundland is the town where I was born,

It'll always be the place for me, it's here that I belong;

We came from dear old Ireland and from the West Count-e-ree,

And settled down in Bay Bulls Town in the seventeenth century.

In dear old Bay Bulls Town, in dear old Bay Bulls Town;

Till the day I die I'll ne'er deny my dear old Bay Bulls Town.

We fished upon the ocean and tilled the rocky soil,

And cleared the land with our bare hands, we laboured and we toiled;

We built our homes in the Gunridge and down the Bread and Cheese,

And all around old Irishtown, the Alley and The Keys.

In dear old Bay Bulls Town, in dear old Bay Bulls Town;

Till the day I die I'll ne'er deny my dear old Bay Bulls Town.

There's Williamses, Glynns and Gatheralls, Puddisters, Packs and O'Deas,

O'Driscolls and Ryans, Burns and O'Briens, the lonely Dan Mulcahys;

There's Maddoxes, Nagles and Kerrys, Lynches and Coadys and Drews,

There's Deagans and there's Lundrigans, to mention just a few.

In dear old Bay Bulls Town, in dear old Bay Bulls Town;

Till the day I die I'll ne'er deny my dear old Bay Bulls Town.

We love to watch the ocean and the moon over Twelve O'Clock Hill,

And walking 'round our little town, you know we always will;

You may search the whole world over, no lovelier will be found,

You'll always be a part of me, my dear old Bay Bulls Town.

My dear old Bay Bulls Town, my dear old Bay Bulls Town;

Till the day I die I'll ne'er deny my dear old Bay Bulls Town.