The Lady that Lived on Keno Hill
I’d like to be talking with her still.
She shook out her tobacco in a shaking hand
and told me her husband was in Yukon sand,
frozen in every feature yet,
and licked her tobacco paper wet,
dropped the rest of it in the stove.
He was a tall guy with a sprinkle of humour
and an idea there was gold in Dominion river,
so he sunk a shaft down to bedrock gold,
was washing it clean when the tunnel rolled.
Hell, he was a crazy man, she said,
and stretched her legs out to the red.
If I had sense, I’d’ve married again
some fella with a stomach an’ rings a’ gold
when I was young, she began.