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Homesick Trapper

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The Homesick Trapper

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The Homesick Trapper
(Stanley G. Triggs)

There's a twisting trail a-winding
     to my trapline in the mountains
Where the silky-pelted marten love to play.
There's a bitter north wind blowing, but I'm packed up,
     so I'm going
To those lonely mountain valleys far away.

I hear the Red Gods calling
     from where the cricks are brawling
And their voices stir me to the very core.
And I cannot crush the longing for that little old log cabin
     Where the virgin forest grows beside my door.

When the bear comes out of hiding down the trail
     I'11 come a-striding
Till I reach the icy waters of the lake.
And you'll know that I'm a-coming
     when you hear my outboard humming
As it leaves a trail of bubbles in its wake.

So I'11 see you in the springtime
     when the ice goes down the river
And the noisy geese are winging o'er the bay;
To those secret trysting places
     in those wide and open spaces
Up the muddy Duncan River far away.
Copyright Stanley G. Triggs
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