Rhymes of a Red Cross Man

<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"></SPAN></p> <br/> <h2> The Man from Athabaska </h2> <p>Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas nothing but the thrumming<br/> Of a wood-pecker a-rapping on the hollow of a tree;<br/> And she thought that I was fooling when I said it was the drumming<br/> Of the mustering of legions, and 'twas calling unto me;<br/> 'Twas calling me to pull my freight and hop across the sea.<br/> <br/> And a-mending of my fish-nets sure I started up in wonder,<br/> For I heard a savage roaring and 'twas coming from afar;<br/> Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas only summer thunder,<br/> And she laughed a bit sarcastic when I told her it was War;<br/> 'Twas the chariots of battle where the mighty armies are.<br/> <br/> Then down the lake came Half-breed Tom with russet sail a-flying,<br/> And the word he said was "War" again, so what was I to do?<br/> Oh the dogs they took to howling, and the missis took to crying,<br/> As I flung my silver foxes in the little birch canoe:<br/> Yes, the old girl stood a-blubbing till an island hid the view.<br/> <br/> Says the factor: "Mike, you're crazy! They have soldier men a-plenty.<br/> You're as grizzled as a badger, and you're sixty year or so."<br/> "But I haven't missed a scrap," says I, "since I was one and twenty.<br/> And shall I miss the biggest? You can bet your whiskers&mdash;no!"<br/> So I sold my furs and started . . . and that's eighteen months ago.<br/> <br/> For I joined the Foreign Legion, and they put me for a starter<br/> In the trenches of the Argonne with the Boche a step away;<br/> And the partner on my right hand was an 'apache' from Montmartre;<br/> On my left there was a millionaire from Pittsburg, U. S. A.<br/> (Poor fellow! They collected him in bits the other day.)<br/> <br/> But I'm sprier than a chipmunk, save a touch of the lumbago,<br/> And they calls me Old Methoosalah, and 'blagues' me all the day.<br/> I'm their exhibition sniper, and they work me like a Dago,<br/> And laugh to see me plug a Boche a half a mile away.<br/> Oh I hold the highest record in the regiment, they say.<br/> <br/> And at night they gather round me, and I tell them of my roaming<br/> In the Country of the Crepuscule beside the Frozen Sea,<br/> Where the musk-ox runs unchallenged, and the cariboo goes homing;<br/> And they sit like little children, just as quiet as can be:<br/> Men of every crime and colour, how they harken unto me!<br/> <br/> And I tell them of the Furland, of the tumpline and the paddle,<br/> Of secret rivers loitering, that no one will explore;<br/> And I tell them of the ranges, of the pack-strap and the saddle,<br/> And they fill their pipes in silence, and their eyes beseech for more;<br/> While above the star-shells fizzle and the high explosives roar.<br/> <br/> And I tell of lakes fish-haunted, where the big bull moose are calling,<br/> And forests still as sepulchres with never trail or track;<br/> And valleys packed with purple gloom, and mountain peaks appalling,<br/> And I tell them of my cabin on the shore at Fond du Lac;<br/> And I find myself a-thinking: Sure I wish that I was back.<br/> <br/> So I brag of bear and beaver while the batteries are roaring,<br/> And the fellows on the firing steps are blazing at the foe;<br/> And I yarn of fur and feather when the 'marmites' are a-soaring,<br/> And they listen to my stories, seven 'poilus' in a row,<br/> Seven lean and lousy 'poilus' with their cigarettes aglow.<br/> <br/> And I tell them when it's over how I'll hike for Athabaska;<br/> And those seven greasy 'poilus' they are crazy to go too.<br/> And I'll give the wife the "pickle-tub" I promised, and I'll ask her<br/> The price of mink and marten, and the run of cariboo,<br/> And I'll get my traps in order, and I'll start to work anew.<br/> <br/> For I've had my fill of fighting, and I've seen a nation scattered,<br/> And an army swung to slaughter, and a river red with gore,<br/> And a city all a-smoulder, and . . . as if it really mattered,<br/> For the lake is yonder dreaming, and my cabin's on the shore;<br/> And the dogs are leaping madly, and the wife is singing gladly,<br/> And I'll rest in Athabaska, and I'll leave it nevermore.<br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />