I was born in old St. John
in Brunswick -by -the -Sea
Back in 1936 it was just my mom and me
She often had to beg for bread
She taught me to hitchhike
And sing about what life was like
for those that had no home.
Well, I turned four in Halifax,
In every small town in between,
took us back to St. John,
That night the strong arm of the law
And they made me an orphan
and taught me not to roam.
Just cry myself to sleep at night
and not be a rolling stone.
By the time that I turned eight
they said that I was cured,
Cured from all that wonder lust
to which I had been lured,
would try to find out where I'd gone,
They shipped me off to P .E .I.
to a farm in Skinner's Pond.
And though I loved the country
I called this island home
I'd sing about what life was like
With a mother's love unknown
When I was thirteen years of age
I ran away from home one day
everywhere were lookin' for their man,
On a merchant ship from old St. John
I sailed for new -found land.
And away out on the Grand Banks
the truth came like a knife,
A drifter I would always be
Before the age of seventeen
An old guitar I'd gladly play
and I'd thank you for the ride
And many a conversation's had
They wound up in my repertoire
of Canadian country songs
And everywhere I traveled,
God might make this vagabond
Then one night in Timmonstown,
They said, if you can sing,
we'll keep you round for a week or so.
and before they let me go
I'm drivin' a car, I got a new guitar
and I'm singin' on the radio
From there this old hitchhiker,
he was on his road to fame
and the good ol' hockey game
Then came Sudbury's Saturday night
They made me the chairman of the board
till I stomped the whole ride through
And like old Luke with his old guitar,
that I wrote for the road
and the mum that I can't forget
And when the party was over
I began to write this song
to the ballad of Stompin' Tom
to the ballad of Stompin' Tom
