How still lies the bay__ in the light_ western airs__ Which blow__ from the crim_-son_ ho-ri-i-zon__ Once more__ we tack home__ with a dry_ empty hold_ Saving gas_ with the breezes_ so_ fair___ She's a kindly Cape Is_-lander_ old__ but still sound__ But so lost__ in the longliner's_ sha-a-dow_ Make and break__ and make do__ but the fish are__ so fe-ew-ew__ That she won't be_ replaced_ should she founder__ It's so hard_ to not think of__ before_ the big war_ When the cod went so cheap_ not so_ plen_-ty_ Foreign trawlers_ go by now_ with long_-seeing_ eyes_ Taking all_ where we seldom_ take any__ And the young folk don't stay_ with the fisherman's way__ Long ago__ they all moved__ to the_ ci-i-ties__ And the ones_ left behind__ old_ tired__ and blind__ Can't work for_ "a pound_ or a penny"__ In Make and Break Harbour_ the boats_ are so few__ Too_ many__ are pulled up__ and rotten__ Most houses stand_ empty_ old nets hung__ to dry__ Are blown away__ lost_ and forgotten__ Now I can see__ the big draggers__ have stirred_ up the bay__ Leaving lobster traps_ smashed on_ the bo-o-ttom__ Can they think it don't_ pay_ to respect the old__ wa-a-ays__ That Make and Break men__ have not forgotton__ For we still keep our_ time_ to_ the turn of the tide_ And this boat_ that I built_ with my_ father__ Still lifts to the sky_ the one lunger_ and I_ Still talk like_ old friends_ on the water___ In Make and Break Harbour_ the boats_ are so few__ Too many__ are pulled up__ and rotten__ Most houses stand_ empty_ old nets hung__ to dry__ Are blown away__ lost_ and forgotten__ In Make and Break Harbour_ the boats_ are so few__ Too many__ are pulled up__ and rotten__ Most houses stand_ empty_ old nets hung__ to dry__ Are blown away__ lost_ and forgotten__