I was born in old St. John
in Brunswick -by -the -Sea
Back in 1936 it was just my mom and me
And as she wandered
through the land
shunned by family
She often had to beg for bread
while I was only three
She taught me to hitchhike
and face the road alone,
And sing about what life was like
for those that had no home.
Lee, Lee, Lee
Well, I turned four in Halifax,
five in Montreal,
In every small town in between,
by six I knew them all.
And when the long road
took us back to St. John,
Mama cried.
That night the strong arm of the law
tore me from her side.
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.
H 'lee, h 'lee, h 'lee.
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,
And just in case my mum
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 couldn't take no more
I ran away from home one day
And left my island shore
And while the Maudies
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
upon the roads of life.
Before the age of seventeen
I seen this country wide
An old guitar I'd gladly play
and I'd thank you for the ride
And many a conversation's had
through my journey long
They wound up in my repertoire
of Canadian country songs
And everywhere I traveled,
I dreamed along the way,
God might make this vagabond
a country star some day.
P 'lee, p 'lee, p 'lee.
Then one night in Timmonstown,
North Ontario,
They said, if you can sing,
we'll keep you round for a week or so.
I packed the place
for fourteen months
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
With bud to spud from
the bright red mud
and the good ol' hockey game
Then came Sudbury's Saturday night
at the Gumboot Loggeroo
They made me the chairman of the board
till I stomped the whole ride through
And like old Luke with his old guitar,
my song wasn't over yet
Till I sang the ode
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
And tonight you've
heard me sing the words
to the ballad of Stompin' Tom
Tonight you've heard
me sing the words
to the ballad of Stompin' Tom
Oodly, oodly, oodly you