This is of an old sailor who lived out in the bay,
But the times they got bad, so he moved away;
He lived in Long Harbour 'til he was a man,
Then he moved to Placentia with the Hip Rubber Gang.
And now he's residing on Townside Beach,
Where him and his buddies, they drink Newfie Screech;
They drink Newfie Screech and beer from a can,
As they stroll along the beach, the Hip Rubber Gang.
Now his next-door neighbour is a man of renown,
From the Western Shore, his name's Mr. Brown
When you go to his house you can drink all you can,
But don't ever call him a Hip Rubber man.
I went to "Pink Lady" to have a beer,
And all of the Hip Rubber boys they were there;
When the racket gets started, you can tell every man,
For the crowd that was fighting were the Hip Rubber Gang.
Now go up the beach a little short ways,
They're there by the dozens, come in from the bays.
The Browns and the Pomeroys, they're all the one clan.
They settled right in with the Hip Rubber Gang.
The Haydens and Wakehams, they live on the beach,
And they don't give too much for old Newfie Screech;
But they're all alike, and so's Mr. Hann,
For they all stick together, that Hip Rubber Gang.
They're Brennans, O'Tooles, there's Welshs and Grays;
They're Hip Rubber boys, and from Paradise they hail,
It's easy to know them, for you cannot go wrong,
'Cause they come aboard the steamer with their Hip Rubbers on.
When they settle in, they pull out their dough,
And straight to the "Pink Lady" they'll go.
They'll start drinking beer, and not before long,
They're all out a-dancing with their Hip Rubbers on.
Now the fishing is over, they're all settled in,
And they'll draw their pokey, sure that will do them.
They'll drink kNewfie Screech, and beer from a can,
And they'll fight all the winter, that Hip Rubber Gang.
Now the writer is Cyril White, and he don't belong,
For he left for Paradise when Joey came along;
He wasn't involved with the resettlement plan,
And that's why he's not with the Hip Rubber Gang.