In nineteen-forty-seven, on a foggy springtime morn,
A new life started at The Grace – ‘twas there that I was born.
And when my Dad came visiting, his face alight with glee,
He said I was the sweetest girl in the whole nursery.

But now they’re closing down The Grace,
It’s more than I can bear!
My brother and my cousins too –
Why, we were all born there.
When we lost the Newfie Bullet
It tore our lives apart.
But to see the day The Grace shuts down
Is going to break my heart.

I left my home on Pleasant Street – you know it made me weep.
Each night up in the Toronto, I cried myself to sleep.
While Cousin Ruth went to The Grace and trained to be a nurse.
And, working there for thirty years, Bev saw the best and worst.

They closed down Power’s candy store, my school burned to the ground.
But every year when I went Home, The Grace was still around.
She stood with pride and dominance, this place of healing hands,
While life and death passed through her doors, and still she proudly stands.

To think they’re closing down The Grace, our eyes fill up with tears.
She meant so much to all of us, grew dearer down the years.
No more will a newborn’s cry e’er echo through her halls.
To some she’s an old building, a place of mould’ring walls.

Dear folks back Home in Newfoundland,
Please keep her memory.
And I will not forget Her,
For she gave the world to me.
For those who were a part of her,
She’ll live on in our souls.
Proud Lady of LeMarchant Road
For whom the bell now tolls.


Cynthia Gullage
Toronto, ON