Songs of the Gunflint Trail by Walter B. Bauman
Smoke pours out of a cabin roof
At the end of the Gunflint Trail-
The bears are asleep where the snow is deep,
And the northwind’s voice is a gale,
The jackpine are green in a land that’s lean-
Lake Sea Gull is sealed with ice;
Flapjacks are good ‘mid crackling wood-
Coffee and bacon suffice.
There’s a thrill quite grand in this frozen land-
Content in the path of the moon;
The smell of pine is quite divine,
As the wild life sings out a tune.
Have you felt the bite of a northern night,
When your boots crunch deep in the snow,
And the wolf-cry whines thru the shad’wy pines,
When it’s ten or twenty below?
A cross-fox lopes thru a crusted swamp-
The pounding of moose gets your ears;
A twelve point buck is running amuck,
And the sight just moves you to tears.
I sit on a log in an icy bog,
As ermine go scampering by;
And I feel the same joy, as I did when a boy,
And I don’t even have to try.
Smoke pours out a cabin roof,
At the end of the Gunflint trail-
The bears are asleep, where the snow is deep,
And the northwind’s voice is a gale.
by Walter B. Bauman