Poem about Humboldt

Downtown Humboldt around the time the poem was written...

Ode to the North
[With apologies to Longfellow, and
acknowledgement to the Franssens]
Author anonymous
(Written circa 1938)

I
In the old Red River Valley,
Near the muddy, rusty, river
There’s a town by the name of Humboldt
Little town, quite far from St. Cloud!
Up, far up into the Northland
Where the people are dirt farmers
Strong and handsome sidewalk farmers.
Farm one farm and then another
Farms the whole damn country round them
Rent the land by sections, even
When we farm only 100 acres!

II
Much the things they do there different
All use tractors ‘stead of horses
Trucks and trailers ‘stead of wagons
People there are great on motors,
All got cars and big machineries
Packards, Plymouths, Dodges Chevies
Buicks, Fords what got the shimmies
Deering, Farmalls, Allis Chalmers,
Bradley, Deere John, and Missus Harris
All own combines, lusty swathers,
But they don’t have cultivators
Cause they don’t grow corn way up there.

III
In the springtime comes the rainstorms
Rains and rains and comes the gumbo
Slippery, slimey, black and dirty
Charlsie scrapers and calls it cowshit
Cause its all so smooth and stickey
Trucks get stuck, must be pulled out
By the fat man’s caterpillar
Gum gets tracked in the houses
Housewives have to clean and scrub them
But they do these little labors
Think not much of little labors
Glad to live up in the Northland.

IV
Up from St. Cloud comes the girlies
Stay to sport away vacation
With Aunt Pearl and Uncle Ollie (Berg)
Tear around with neighbor laddies,
Goes to shows with Wimp and Gordy
Vamps around and goes to Bronson
Have themselves a plenty good time
Play the checkers and the ping-pong
Drink root beer and eats the pop corn
Rides in trucks and on the combine
Drive Joe Diamond's “Master Chevie”
And with his beloved, Jerry!

V
In the town there is the people
Leonard, Herb and Lawrence Diamond
Big B’S-ers, them three fellows
Like to tease and tell big stories
All in fun does Ikey do it
Him the Cop, - - - the Chief of Police
Him the Fire Sergeant also,
But not the Mayor,
Him is Tom Brown.
Squirty little duck, the mayor,
All for work and money getter.

VI
Bumped his head on Bud’s truck mirror
Wondered what the hell had happened
Looked around and pulled his whiskers
Bud and Donnie blowed a tire
Knocked the cap from Uncle Bud off
Blew the cigarette from his mouth out
Donnie Brown rolled over backwards
Laughed & laughed and rubbed his stomach
Him the kid that can fry “burgers”
Juicy, greasy hot hamburgers
He displayed his art one winter
At Aunt Pearl’s and Buds Household

VII
Also for Tom, works Sylvester,
Fat and happy Slim Sylvester,
Went with teacher from the "Hoc Schule"
Drives himself a pretty Chevie
Scoots around with old "Shell" gas truck
Round town and in the country
Bringing gasses to the farmers
Much he teases little Mary
Also Pete and sassy Jerry

Poem: "Queen River..."

Red River of the North, by Apyh P

As often happens in my research, I stumble across something when looking for something totally different. The poem below was written about the Red River; I smiled when I first read it, because it's obviously so idealized (at least about the river itself). There are also elements of imperialism and prejudice regarding the aboriginal cultures. Yet, to be fair, there are at the same time paradoxical phrases (such as "priestcraft's snare") that could be taken as condemnations of the eventual results.

by J.C.H.

'Neath high arched skies of clearest sheen,
Sweeping thro' prairies' boundless green,
Where branching elms and poplars throw
Dark shadows of the flood below;
Thro' the great rival nation's land,
Uniting them with silver band,
We greet thee, as we greet a Queen,
Red River of the Northern Plain.


Thy crown is of the azure hue
Of sun-set sky and pearly dew;
Thy tresses of the ivy made,
Twined with the willows, lighter shade;
The Bois de Sioux, the small Marais,
Unite to make thy girdle gay;
The Assiniboine and wild Roseau
Thy fair feet have in Northern Plain.


A Naiad Queen - thy bounteous hand
Refreshes oft the parched land;
The cattle bellow forth thy praise,
The blackbirds land thee in their lays;
The plover, mallard, and wild goose
The slow-paced bear, the antlered moose,
Come, lave and drink, a thankful band,
Queen river of the Northern Plain.


Pray tell us of those ancient men,
The Sioux, the Blackfeet, the Cheyenne,
Whose forms majestic, by thy face
Reflected were - a stately race;
Their children on thy banks still stand,
Sad remnant of a noble band;
Their old renown, their fate, you ken,
Old rover of the Northern Plain.


Then tell us of the men who came
In humble guise and holy name,
Who bore the cross, and taught that loss
Was gain, and gain on earth was loss,
With Him before whose sacred throne
The red and white man count as one;
Good men, ye sought for heaven to tame
The wild men of the Northern Plain.


But ah, my Muse, in shame and tears,
With downcast eyes, of after years
She tells. By lust and lucre nurs'd,
Came wrongs and cruel deeds, that curs'd
The land, sod made the red man fall
And fade, who had been king of all
Canadians - shall the coming years
Redeem from stain our Northern Plain?


Astraean Muse, the tears conceal,
And of the coming years reveal;
"Fair Queen, thy virgin shores shall be
The home of Myriads blest and free;
From despot's rod, from priestcraft's snare
Thy waters pure their freight shall bear,
Thy praise they'll raise, thy glory feel,
Queen River of the Northern Plain."


NOTE: The Bois de Sioux, Marais, Roseau, and Assiniboine are four of the many rivers that drain the northern part of this immense prairie, and fall into the Red River of the North...


From: From Manitoba Free Press November 6, 1875