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The paddlewheel unloads people,
tourists who were out on a cruise,
above the docks and the gift shops
the brown palisades come in view.

(The canoes draw up on the beach,
Iroquois out looking to trade,
in the fort the merchants gaze on,
guns and metal they’ll send their way.)

The families walk to the gate,
the young boys humming joyously,
his place is out of story-books,
with so many cool things to see.

(The Mohawks bring their wares inside,
redcoats guards above, quite alert,
they’re supposed to be allies but
keeping an eye out doesn’t hurt.)

They run around the great courtyard,
to the stocks, the well, the wagon,
local youths, dressed up are their guides,
explaining how things were once done.

(The bargaining goes back and forth,
local guides translate what is said,
both sides want the best of the deal,
squabble for all that they can get.)

One the wall kids climb the cannons,
pretend that they’re soldiers of old,
parents ready to pull them back
if, like all kids, they get too bold.

(The big guns look out on the lake,
they know that the French are out there,
these Mohawks came out of the north
so it pays for folks to beware).

The young ones scamper down the walls,
duck into buildings now and then,
the parents tried to read the signs,
but they can’t, since they’re minding them.

(The young man walks a lonely path,
takes the steps, makes sure to go back,
if officers see him slacking
then he knows he will get the lash.)

They get through the gift shop intact,
a battle for parents, it’s true,
pile into the mini-van,
kids asleep in an hour or two.

(The Mohawks head back with their haul,
still hours until they make camp
while merchants stretch out beaver skin,
they never can sate the demand.)

The family goes back to its life,
vacation over for the year,
miles away safe in their homes,
they have little reason to fear.

(The fort remains every watchful,
in a wilderness dark and stern,
not knowing that within a year
all of those tall timbers will burn.)
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