Near the beaches of Lumsden, where the icy waters gleam,
Was an artist named David Blackwood, with visions like a dream.
Born in Wesleyville, a town settled from Swain's Island
He painted tales of courage and hardships in the highlands.
From the bustling ports to the quiet, windswept shores,
Blackwood found his muses, in the sealers' laboured chores.
With etchings dark and vivid, he brought the past to the present,
The struggles and the triumphs, in a land of accents.
David Blackwood, with your brush so bold,
You captured tales of ice and cold.
Historical scenes of the Rock's outports
With Its soul, heart, and imports.
In the shadows of the icebergs, and the whispers of the sea,
Blackwood found the strokes, of a people's history.
With a master's touch, he etched the night, and the morning's gentle glow,
Revealing Newfoundland's spirit, in the tempest's throes.
David Blackwood, with your brush so bold,
You captured tales of ice and cold.
Historical scenes of the Rock's outports
With Its soul, heart, and imports.
From "The Great Eastern" to the haunting "Fire Down on the Labrador,"
His art became a chronicle, of the island's deep lore.
Through the black and white, and the shades of grey he drew,
The lifeblood of the island, in each piece he knew.
Through the decades and the seasons, his legacy would grow,
An artist of the maritimes, with works that deeply show.
The harsh and gentle landscapes, of a place both fierce and kind,
Forever in his etchings, Newfoundland we find.
David Blackwood, with your brush so bold,
You captured tales of ice and cold.
Historical scenes of the Rock's outports
With Its soul, heart, and imports.
So we honor David Blackwood, with his vision clear and true,
His art a bridge to history, in every line and hue.
For in the world he crafted, we see a place unique and grand,
The spirit of Newfoundland, forever in his hand.
Eh I By - Blackwood Lyrics
Eh I By - Blackwood Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Near the beaches of Lumsden, where the icy waters gleam,
Was an artist named David Blackwood, with visions like a dream.
Born in Wesleyville, a town settled from Swain's Island
He painted tales of courage and hardships in the highlands.
From the bustling ports to the quiet, windswept shores,
Blackwood found his muses, in the sealers' laboured chores.
With etchings dark and vivid, he brought the past to the present,
The struggles and the triumphs, in a land of accents.
David Blackwood, with your brush so bold,
You captured tales of ice and cold.
Historical scenes of the Rock's outports
With Its soul, heart, and imports.
In the shadows of the icebergs, and the whispers of the sea,
Blackwood found the strokes, of a people's history.
With a master's touch, he etched the night, and the morning's gentle glow,
Revealing Newfoundland's spirit, in the tempest's throes.
David Blackwood, with your brush so bold,
You captured tales of ice and cold.
Historical scenes of the Rock's outports
With Its soul, heart, and imports.
From "The Great Eastern" to the haunting "Fire Down on the Labrador,"
His art became a chronicle, of the island's deep lore.
Through the black and white, and the shades of grey he drew,
The lifeblood of the island, in each piece he knew.
Through the decades and the seasons, his legacy would grow,
An artist of the maritimes, with works that deeply show.
The harsh and gentle landscapes, of a place both fierce and kind,
Forever in his etchings, Newfoundland we find.
David Blackwood, with your brush so bold,
You captured tales of ice and cold.
Historical scenes of the Rock's outports
With Its soul, heart, and imports.
So we honor David Blackwood, with his vision clear and true,
His art a bridge to history, in every line and hue.
For in the world he crafted, we see a place unique and grand,
The spirit of Newfoundland, forever in his hand.
Was an artist named David Blackwood, with visions like a dream.
Born in Wesleyville, a town settled from Swain's Island
He painted tales of courage and hardships in the highlands.
From the bustling ports to the quiet, windswept shores,
Blackwood found his muses, in the sealers' laboured chores.
With etchings dark and vivid, he brought the past to the present,
The struggles and the triumphs, in a land of accents.
David Blackwood, with your brush so bold,
You captured tales of ice and cold.
Historical scenes of the Rock's outports
With Its soul, heart, and imports.
In the shadows of the icebergs, and the whispers of the sea,
Blackwood found the strokes, of a people's history.
With a master's touch, he etched the night, and the morning's gentle glow,
Revealing Newfoundland's spirit, in the tempest's throes.
David Blackwood, with your brush so bold,
You captured tales of ice and cold.
Historical scenes of the Rock's outports
With Its soul, heart, and imports.
From "The Great Eastern" to the haunting "Fire Down on the Labrador,"
His art became a chronicle, of the island's deep lore.
Through the black and white, and the shades of grey he drew,
The lifeblood of the island, in each piece he knew.
Through the decades and the seasons, his legacy would grow,
An artist of the maritimes, with works that deeply show.
The harsh and gentle landscapes, of a place both fierce and kind,
Forever in his etchings, Newfoundland we find.
David Blackwood, with your brush so bold,
You captured tales of ice and cold.
Historical scenes of the Rock's outports
With Its soul, heart, and imports.
So we honor David Blackwood, with his vision clear and true,
His art a bridge to history, in every line and hue.
For in the world he crafted, we see a place unique and grand,
The spirit of Newfoundland, forever in his hand.
Writer: Benjamin Sturge
Copyright: Lyrics © Too Lost LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Too Lost LLC