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Lyrics for Peter Emberly by Unknown:
| | | Artist: | Unknown |
| | Album: | Unknown | | Track: | Peter Emberly | | | | Date Added: | 18/10/2007 | | Views: | 319 | | | | Lyrics: | Peter Emberly
My name 'tis Peter Emberley, as you may understand.
I was born on
Prince Edward's lsland near by the ocean strand.
ln eighteen hundred and eighty-four when the
flowers were a brilliant hue
I left my native counterie my fortune to pursue.
I
landed in Mew Brunswick in a lumbering counterie'
I hired to work in the lumber woods on the
Sou-West Miramichi.
I hired to work in the lumbei woods where they cut the tall spruce
down
While loading teams with yarded logs I received a deadly wound.
There's danger
on the ocean where the waves roll mountain high,
There's danger on the battlefield where the
angry bullets fly.
There's danger in the lumber woods, for death lurks sullen there,
And I
have fell a victim into that monstrous snare.
I know my luck seems very hard since fate
has proved severe,
But victor death is the worst can come and I have no more to fear.
And
he'll allay those deadly pains and liberate me soon.
And I'll sleep the long and lonely sleep
called slumber in the tomb.
Here's adieu to Prince Edward's lsland, that garden in the
seas,
No more I'll walk its flowery banks to enjoy a summer's breeze.
No more I'll view
those gallant ships as they go swinrming by,
With their streamers floating on the breeze above
the canvas high.
Here's adieu unto my father, it was him who drove me here.
I
thought he used me cruelly, his treatments were unfair.
For 'tis not right to oppress a boy or
try to keep him down.
'Twill oft repulse him from his home whcn he is far too
young.
Here's adieu unto my greatest friend, I mean my mother dear,
She raised a son
who fell as soon as he left her tender care.
'Twas little did my mother know when she sang
lullaby,
What country I might travel in or what death I might die.
Here's adieu unto
my youngest friend, those island girls so true.
Long may they bloom to grace that isle where
first my breath I drew.
For the world will roll onjust the same when I have passed
away,
What signifies a mortal man whose origin is clay?
But there's a world beyond
the tomb, to it I'm nearing on.
Where man is more than mortal, and death can never
come.
The mist of death it glares my eyes and I'm no longer here,
My spirit takes its
final flight unto another sphere.
And now before I pass away there is one more thing I
crave,
That some good holy father will bless my mouldering grave.
Near by the city of
Boiestown where my mouldering bones do lay.
A-waiting for my saviour's call on that great
Judgement Day.
From Penguin Book of Canadian Folk Songs, Fowke
@Canada @logging
@death @work
filename[ PTRMBRLY
play.exe PTRMBRLY
RG
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