Canadian Gypsy
Nomads of the glacial rocky peeks
Swaths of hills, flat lands, and crevices
Virgin territory to newcomers
Vintage to the Canadian Gypsy
A land born of our blood
Soaking the earth in afterbirth
The past sighed in wistfulness
T
he future in excitement
The present in cynicism
Knowing we can never go back
First Nations accept half of us
Europeans show distaste of their own making
We rejoice in it all as the Metis
Together we band and become the gypsies
Remembering the earth’s red blood
And the settlers working hands
That carry us forward
Gypsies born from trade
European seeds planted
In the belly of Rupert's Land
A new breed walks on two
Mothers of the earth
Fathers of the war
Timber forts hug the rivers
Chief Factors record within
English and French compete for all
Three beavers, point blanket in return
Noblemen covet felt for luxury
Natives trade for colourful warmth
Rape the land
Benefit of both
Nature warns extinction nears
Sextant in hand
Compass the course
Chart the stars
Mossy swamps
Mosquito territory
NorthWest passage determined
Virgin mist forests
Veiled treasures within
Athabasca Passage mapped
Chinook winds of the hills
Burial grounds of the ancient
Blackfoot Passage hidden
Oregon Trail carries the horse
New blood adapts to its muscles
Bareback with a spear
The original hunter
Opportunity abounds
Opened plains to stalk their prey
Fringed coats and hearty meats
Bison grounded
Excess and indulgence
Murder and corruption is becoming tolerant
Whiskey has found a new partner
The Shaman weeps
Wide eyed settlers embrace the land
Treaties are signed with no language
Natives learn to hate while round up is near
Red River expands
Hard working toilers
Shape and enclose the land
Louis Riel, the outspoken Metis sings
Gypsies sway to his music
Their wandering passion reflects his tone
First Nations too hungry to care
Forts close and watch from a distance
The drums of war begin
Loyalists cry sedition
Nations find their strength and embrace the Metis plight
Royal Mounted Police establish Canadian order
Hero to many, captured and hung
Treason to the white crown was the call
But the gypsies still remember his beat
Hindsight I have
Henceforth I go
Kimberly Bird ©
