Marcus Wolfe Posted January 30, 2008 Share Posted January 30, 2008 Ballad of an Iroquois Fur TraderI raised the gun I aimed the gun a mooseBAM pierced the heart I felt his spirit fly awayHis meat, his hide, his bones I shall not wasteThe price they can obtain is chosen by Bay I laugh Jacob is not the best at trapsHe swears and turns as red as beats in summerThe beavers free from the trap are dead he cheersThe trap alive no more less profit he fearsJacob, I say, the trip will not take longKiulu, he say, the trip it will take longJacob, he may control the gold but stillHe may not know the bear who steals man food The wolves they sing at night, Jacob he scaredHe sweats the shivers his heart is small loud drumI laugh I sing wolf song, Jacob grab rumHis eyes grow large and red, Jacob got drunk Crackle crackle, fire cooks fresh meat sun riseJacob he not very glad he say, KiuluWe must go now or else we will lose timeI say, we may lose time, the boss be you A river is life, a canoe your own bodyJacob, you must know this or you will drownKiulu, I know only this, we must sell nowFor life is short, sell before your price goes down The furs are priced so high, Jacob, rest day?Kiulu, the furs are naught of what we needJacob, we need little we use the landWell that can work, but only with luck, we survive So we in canoe again, your boss more greedy?‘Tis true, Kiulu, and thus, we are more needyJacob, your boss his greed can end right?Jacob did not talk loud, a whisper, I hope Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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