Ode To Cassiar by J.O. Wolfe
as printed in "The Asbestos Sheet", February 1969 edition

I sit here forlorn in the tomb-stone morn
As smoke curls heavenly high.
And there's nary a sound, 'cept the bark of a hound,
And the odd coarse raven cry.

There's a clear blue sky, but the sun's not high,
And the hoar frost clings to the trees.
The mountains not far stretch up to a star,
And the snow lies up to your knees.

I see a bright light as the sun has a fight
To spring firm the valley below.
And the morn comes alive, like bees in a hive
With trucks full of men on the go.

The engines all roar to warm up some more,
And the sound of the wheels and the squeals
All make a great sight, of a land in a fight
To win over nature's ordeals.

The people all here are hardy, it's clear
Hand picked with wisdom and care.
There's men of all races, some bush on their faces,
Come far to live in Cassiar.

There are men in the pit and some of great wit,
And crews on the bagging machine.
The cooks that are here are full of good cheer,
And curlers of greatest esteem.

The him and the her all bundled in fur,
And mentioned in Service's McGee.
But the dogs are replaced by a scoot in its place,
And the folks tear around on a spree.

There's a hill for the ski and a rink that is free,
And a show for the town to enjoy.
A hospital bed with a Doc at the head,
And a crib for a girl or a boy.

A bar for the crew with a dollar or two,
And a Mountie that's fair if you're clean,
A bus to be had, that's driven by Abb
Through weather that's known to be mean.

There's a place here for you, it's certainly true,
Much sport in the fresh open air.
It's open for all who answer the call
To work at the Mine Cassiar.

By J. O. Wolfe, the Safety Director for the BC Mining Assn, in 1969

Contributed by John Wallenborn

This page was last edited Monday, February 02, 2015

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