(Papa never said much but now Papa say
It is best so. Though I'm not certain because after he speak,
our mama cleared her throat)

Yeah he had drag us all over these Americas
From Buenos Aires up to Billings Montana
Today we’re in the southern states of America
Somewhere, somewhere, working in some iron cave
My papa had his pick axe propped above his head
And without another swing, he heard that voice
He heard what is said, and he cried out
Christ! Oh not again
He dropped his pick axe right there on the cave floor
Headed on up out and made a left turn
(That’s north east to you and I)

My 13 years old sister she gathered up the rest of the family
To see what our papa was going this time, this time
We got outside, we could tell by the hitch in his walk
By the stoop in his shoulder
By the angle of his mining boots
He was going back home
Back home to Labrador
We were welcome no more

And she called :
Christ! We gotta stay right here
We got places here
We cannot disappear
Yeah the whole family got caught up in his hullabaloo
Picking up those mining rocks whipping them at my papa
My sister, she took her pick axe
Tried to spade it through my father’s back
But she missed, she throws like a woman
But my sweetheart, my mama, she took off her iron necklace
And she cranked my father in the back of the head
He slowed down, and with a sweep of his great right arm
He swept up all these articles
He swept up that pick axe
He swept up them mining rocks
He swept up that iron necklace
And he put ‘em in his sack
He headed back to Labrador
We were welcome no more
Back home to Labrador
We were welcome no more

Come on! (x16)

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, he went to Buffalo, New York
He came to Montreal, spoke to some of my relations there
He made a left turn at Trois-Rivières and he came to Churchill Falls
He looked 127 meters up into the sky
(I don’t know your American conversion)
And a blanch came over his face
And his decision was made
So he took out my sister's pick axe
Started hacking away at this maple tree
He cut 16 even pieces, put them in a shape of a barrel
He started hacking away in the stump of this maple tree
To make a bottom for the barrel
He started hacking away at this stump of a maple tree
To make a top for the barrel
He put the barrel on his back
Hitched about a mile up Churchill River
Threw the barrel in the water, into the river
Threw himself into the barrel, into the water, in the river
And started floating down Churchill River
Inside the barrel, he came to Churchill Falls


Down! (x15)

And down

He was a bit pissed off at the good fortune of his continued life
You see, he’d been making holes his whole life
Hiding down inside
And now this one he made from his daughter’s own pick axe
He made too well, too well
So he took this hole of a barrel
Propped it underneath Churchill River
Let it fill up with water from Churchill Falls
He took his rucksack, emptied out the mining rocks
Put ‘em inside the barrel
He took that pick axe, put it inside the barrel
He took my sweetheart, my mama’s necklace wrapped around his wrist
He got inside that barrel
And he held that top of the barrel above his head
And the water sent him down!

You see, there were all these people gathered around
To see what this man was doing at Churchill Falls
He was crouched down inside that barrel
Those mining rocks rubbing against his buttocks
That pick axe rubbing against his groin, rubbing against his chin
And that iron necklace wrapped around his wrist
And the people outside, they swore they heard my father say this:
Immerse me full Fall River to deliver me my crimes (x2)

Ladies and gentlemen,
That is the fabulous history of the Churchill Falls Barrel Races
And to this day, the contestants of the barrel races
For some reason unbeknownst to them
They must were an iron necklace around their wrist
And the caller of the race, he doesn’t call 1, 2, 3
He doesn’t call "ready, steady, go"
He doesn’t call "on your marks"
But he calls this : Come on (x16)

(Papa, goin goin this time
Kept walking, with this hitch in his legs
My sister burn up
We gotta stay right here
Keeps on, with a northern angle to his boots
We gotta face this hell)

Lyrics submitted by mybloody, edited by SoulDriven

The Fabulous History of the Churchill Falls Barrel Races song meanings
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