Lyrics

Economy crashed years ago,
She's still at home, clinging to her birthplace
Downright stubborn to a fault,
It's home sweet home

Still they keep a plow to the roads
hand to the wharf and shovel to the potholes
Taking care of everything
As they've always done

Still clothes on the line,
Wood in the stove,
Nothing's Changed but the tide
In Tickle Cove

Government came and paid 'em to go,
They were met at once with a hard no
So they struggled on
with no money to show

Still the ghosts stomp their feet
In kitchens bare, through old broken windows
Melodies drift on the breeze
On up the road

Still clothes on the line,
Wood in the stove,
All has changed but the tide
In Tickle Cove

Now the Nets and flakes and traps
Rot in the sun
Left and forgotten
Will they ever feel young hands
Work them again?

Goldrush towns of the west
Now the shacks scattered at the ocean
Will they live to hear
The stories told of them?

Still clothes on the line,
Wood in the stove,
Nothing's Changed but the tide
In Tickle Cove

Still clothes on the line,
Wood in the stove,
All has Changed but the tide
In Tickle Cove