Winds

For some reason I have begun singing Ian Tyson's "Four Strong Winds" at work lately. I am not much of singer so the sawmill noise spares me the embarrassment of being overheard.

Not many of the white guys sing at work like in the old days. My brown buddies sing whenever they feel happy. That is what they tell me anyway.

If I was born in a village without a liquor store in India and got to immigrate to Canada I would sing every day.

Four strong winds that blow slowly

Seven seas that run high

All these things that don't change come what may

Now our good times are all gone

And I'm bound for moving on

I'll look for you if I'm ever back this way

Guess I'll go out to motherfucking Alberta

Weather's good there in the fall

Got some friends that I can go to working for

Still I wish you'd change your mind

If I asked you one more time

But we've been through that a hundred times or more

If I get there before the snow flies

And if things are looking good

You could meet me if I sent you down the fare

But by then it would be winter

Nothing much for you to do

And the wind sure blows cold way out there