Dawn Fraser: Echoes From Labor's War

"Go West, Young Man, Go West"

I was never very proud, indeed I was somewhat ashamed, of the following rhyme which was written while I was in flight from the starving sections of the extreme eastern part of industrial Canada in the year 1925. In justice to myself I might state, however, that this farewell was written under certain handicaps while I had to keep one jump ahead of the conductor on the night train out of Sydney. However, when that official finally caught up with me, he proved to be a good fellow who knew me. He shared the contents of his lunch can with me and let me ride free to the end of his run.

The winter winds are bleak and drear,
Methinks I better move from here;
Fly, fly, Old Timer, fly away
Before that dark December day
When gloom descends upon the town
And when the mines are all shut down,
When idle workers walk the street—
Up, up, Old Timer, work your feet.
Hark ye the hungry people's cries,
The birds have left (and birds are wise)
Were naught but wisdom now methinks
To leave the ship before she sinks.

What comes? This shadow o'er my mind
For those I love and leave behind,
But some there are I cannot like—
I hopes you perish, Ike Mclke.*
I don't forget our little clash,
I hopes the "pluck-me"** stops your hash;
Beware the evil eye of me—
I'll have revenge, you wait and see.

I know not whether north or south
Or east or west I'll roam,
But this I know, the night is dark
And I am far from home;
And creditors, dear creditors,
Don't think I mean you wrong,
If you wake up some morning
And find that I am gone.
Yes, I know that you are short
Just the same as I,
But I'll pay you, yes, I'll pay you
In the sweet by and by.

* Ike Mclke—Contemporary writer in the local press.
** Pluck-me—General store operated by the workers' employers.

[ Top ] [ Next ] [ Contents ]