by Wallace McRae
Come with me to my home town, Cold Shrift, Montana.
Remember that sand rock on Emil's crik',
Where dad carved his name in '13?
It's been blasted down into rubble and
Interred by a drag-line machine.
Where Phetel's lived at the old Miler place
Where us kids stole melons at night?
We dozed it up in a funeral pire,
We torched it - it's gone alright.
There's a railroad lug in the cold storage shed
Where the bison kill-site use to be,
McGive's place is gone and Ambose's too –
Abel Fortzes' a ranch refugee.
But things are boomin' - we've got this new school
That's envied across the whole state!
When folks up and ask 'How's things go’ in down there'
I grin like a fool and say 'Great!'
Great God how we're do’ in, we're rollin' in dough!
As they tear and they ravage the earth –
And nobody knows... and nobody cares...
About things of intrinsic worth.
Where dad carved his name in '13?
It's been blasted down into rubble and
Interred by a drag-line machine.
Where Phetel's lived at the old Miler place
Where us kids stole melons at night?
We dozed it up in a funeral pire,
We torched it - it's gone alright.
There's a railroad lug in the cold storage shed
Where the bison kill-site use to be,
McGive's place is gone and Ambose's too –
Abel Fortzes' a ranch refugee.
But things are boomin' - we've got this new school
That's envied across the whole state!
When folks up and ask 'How's things go’ in down there'
I grin like a fool and say 'Great!'
Great God how we're do’ in, we're rollin' in dough!
As they tear and they ravage the earth –
And nobody knows... and nobody cares...
About things of intrinsic worth.
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