Andrew Jacob Jung Poet Lyric

The Dry Bed of Old Birch Creek

On the dry bed of old Birch Creek lay bones
Of deer picked clean by buzzards these stones
Forged a path for a thousand dances of the Sun
They came here for me I am the one
The last of my band to make my home
On the dry bed of old Birch Creek

On the dry bed of old Birch Creek I take
A deep drag from my pipe my son will make
His living packing meat in Great Falls
Far from here it is good for him but these cabin walls
Will ring no more with laughter of children at the break
Of dawn on the dry bed of old Birch Creek

Along the dry bed of old Birch Creek where Apisi
And I would run to see Grandfather ready 
For the hunt in the days the buffalo
Were a thick fog on the plain oh how we longed to go
With Father and Grandfather who would wave to me
As the band moved out along the dry bed of old Birch Creek

On the dry bed of old Birch Creek I pass
The days smoking drinking waiting but at last
The Great White Father's rations arrive
My boy joined the Army and now must survive
The white man's war in France 
Better he die fighting than conquered on the dry bed of old Birch Creek

September 16, 2016

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