Oct 2014
In the winter of 1894,
I froze to death in the snow.
No one will remember,
No one will know.
Crossing the bay,
Frozen with ice.
Furs stacked ten high
On my sleigh.
No one will know
The things I've seen.
No one will know I was loved,
No one will know where I've been.
I froze to death in the snow.
No one will remember,
No one will know.
Crossing the bay,
Frozen with ice.
Furs stacked ten high
On my sleigh.
No one will know
The things I've seen.
No one will know I was loved,
No one will know where I've been.
Just a thought inspired by the journal of my great grandfather who had a trap line in Northern Ontario while working for the Hudson Bay Company, the winter he met my great-grandmother and almost froze to death.
