A Personal History

From Canada my Dad did come

Across the border to the states.

He came for work when youth was young,

And also found his love’s embrace.

His Father came from Britain’s heart

A midlands village in the West.

He lived a path he did not chart

For tragedy left life undressed.

He lost his family in a fire

And moved his roots to Canada.

T’was there he found another pyre

A fiery gal, my grand mama.

From them my Dad was given life

And grew to manhood on the coast.

New Brunswick’s living had its strife

But it became my Father’s host.

But rocks and roots must oft let go

And Dad began his quest for more.

And to the States, with oats to sow,

He set his hopes on Boston’s shore.

When I was small and just a shard

To Canada we thus would go.

One Uncle was a border guard

Another farmed so long ago.

So now you know why I can say

O Canada, your rocks and root

Are part of me this very day

And so to you a long salute.