You turn and there before you stretch the White Hills
Holding Quidi Vidi in their hands –
You can almost hear Virginia's rippling waters –
From here it is a green and pleasant land.
Then in your dreams you turn towards the sunset
You see old landmarks there before you stretched –
The old-time houses and the old Cathedral
Of this, the oldest city in the West.

And as the sun goes down behind Freshwater
Flooding Southside Hills with red and gold,
There's not another country that can proffer
A sight as dear your tear-filled eyes behold.
The lights come on, reflected in the waters
Their beauty more, by far, it seems to me
Than all your Western cities' sights can offer –
This scene from Cabot Tower is to see.

The place so dear to every Newfoundlander
Is not paradise with hills of green,
But the cool, salt-laden air –
The skies above, so clear –
And childhood's memories of what might have been
Beckon you though nature all around you
And man's inventions are at your command
Take you home, back home, if only in your dreaming,
Back home once more to dear old Newfoundland.