River of Abused
by Dirk P Stewart
Back in the days of pine logging and tall ships that sailed on the sea.
Rough
men took their toll on the fine stands, on a river named Miramichi.
Oh the French and the English fought their battles,
with gallantly built Brigantines
And the masts that rose from their top decks were brought down in the Miramichi.
Oh those war tears are far long behind us, pine forests still suffer
the same
Not many brought down the river, to use as fine masts today
Not like the ring of the axes of a time and a much
better day
Our horizon she tells quite a story, a sad one I'm sorry to say
In the woods camps there still is some rough men that long for the days
of the old.
And they dream about double bitted axes, how their notches rang out in the cold.
How they stood proud on
payday at months end, no hanging their heads in shame
A sad story this horizon does tell us, Miramichi River is quite not
the same.
Oh what fate do we have in store for the islands that anchor our Miramichi
Bay?
And to the prime stretches of upper waters, reserved for the U.S. of A
To the Bartibog, Cains and Dungarven, Sevogle
and Black River I do say,
That they are the breath of our river, that most still depend on their pay.
When they talk about things exploited, it can be plainly seen,
That
this beautiful, Miramichi River, has witnessed the true meaning of greed,
She's been robbed of most of her splendour, looks
sad as she flows to the sea
We're all eager to brag about past times, on a river named Miramichi.
©2003 Dirk P Stewart Barque & Byte Music
All
Articles ©2003 by Author
