A Newfie's a Newfie wherever he goes, It don't seem to matter the cut of his clothes, The gleam in his eyes and the way that he walks, And the true Newfie tone in the way that he talks.
Oh, by the Lord dyin', by the thunderin' gee, How are you doin' you son-of-a-b? You can't fool your old man by dressin' like that, You're still just a Newfie in a Calgary hat.
Now, over the years when things aren't the best, A lot of our fellers head out for the west; But everyone knows that they ain't gonna stay, They'll always come back with those upalong ways.
No one suspected we'd ever have oil, The Newfies took off for Alberta awhile; They traded their rubbers and their warm worsted caps, For rodeo boots and big Calgary hats.
Oh, by the Lord dyin', by the thunderin' gee, How are you doin' you son-of-a-b? You can't fool your old man by dressin' like that, You're still just a Newfie in a Calgary hat.
Now, the saltwater cowboy is new you'll agree, It seems we've created a new kind of breed, With our hats and our songs and our talk about oil, We even talk Newfie in a soft-Texas style.
Oh, by the Lord dyin', by the thunderin' gee, How are you doin' you son-of-a-b? You can't fool your old man by dressin' like that, You're still just a Newfie in a Calgary hat,