Come all ye good people and listen
To what I have come here to say;
It's concerning a band of vile traitors
That live at the head of our bay.
Their names for some time I'll not mention,
I'll apprehend them by and by;
Their leader he was a blind piper,
By the parson's game-cock lost an eye.
The day that the poll-booth was opened,
The "Antis" and "Cons" they were there;
The flag of cursed Confederation
Was gallantly marched to the rear.
Keough struck Newell, the bearer,
And he trampled the 'rag' to the ground;
Mavourneen he struck Neddy Humby,
And frightened the Abbots and Brown.
Then out came that chap of the Brennan's,
A son to the leader in strife;
He took an oak stave in the morning,
And he swore he would have "Antis" life.
He was soon perceived by those heroes,
Descendants of old Granu-Aile,
Who tumbled him into a mud pool
And followed clan Brennan's on trail.
Then next was the great Patagonian,
Both matchless in manner and size;
He first talked in favour of "Antis",
Then joined the confederate side.
The gang got a full tub of "soldiers"
And pelted him down to his door;
His mother did not recognize him
Till she washed him a dozen times o'er!
Oh, boys, if you saw the fair Jenny
I'm sure you would pity her case;
And if she was handy to Ridley
He might sympathize with her grace.
Poor thing, she is half broken-hearted
Since the "Antis" have now gained their day;
Short shoes and long corns may attend her,
Is the wish of all Bonavist' Bay.
And now to conclude and to finish,
I hope a good lesson we've taught;
And the touters sent here from the city,
Have been told that Plate Cove can't be bought;
Our fathers came here to find freedom,
Their sons will not trade it away;
Then hurrah! for the "Antis" of Plate Cove,
The "Fortress of Bonavist' Bay"!