He ain't got much but traps and such, to his name I doubt there's a dime.
He's in from the hills among the frills for only the briefest time.
I see him here but once a year, when he barters all his hides,
Then he's gone back out, I have no doubt. Back over the great divide.

I happen to know this man, although, I don't know where his camp.
But he pays his way and I would say he's an honest sort of scamp.
His name he simply signs an "X", but I think that I know better.
For once did he (I happened to see), was reciting verse and letter.

It was Will Shakespeare or something near, that was his choice oration.
Though sure I'm not, I 'spect he's got, more than a tad's education.
But I can't blame his lack of fame, I must admire the man.
He's got a good life with gun and knife where he lives by his own hand.

His fur is prime and every time he brings it in to sell,
The trader will grin and stroke his chin, and sit to chat a spell.
But X don't like to sit and strike up conversation for too long.
It appears to me he'd rather be hearing the lone wolf's song.

He traps somewhere just north a hair of the Yukon it is said
Though no one knows precisely those trails he's undoubtedly tread.
I speculate its part of the state where greenhorns fear to go.
So far back there's nary a track of another man in the snow.

He carries a pack upon his back; his stride is sure but slow.
He drags a sled with food and bed, behind him in the snow.
If I were to gauge his roundabout age, I guess I'd probably score
Him seventy year, or somewhere near; He ain't a pup no more.

I 'spect one year he'll not appear and our memories soon will fold.
There never was this man, because, he didn't fit the mold.
The mold most had fits good and bad, they'll say he lost his mind.
He just didn't fit 'cause he cared not a whit, for others of his kind.

Jack

very nice!

I think your poem would resonate with most serious long time trappers. We are not like most folks. We have a little "x" in us. You know him well.

jarentz and squacks - much appreciate the comments, you two.

Jack

Very nice poem and story of a man educated in nature. My only comment is the rhymes look kind of busy to me. This is subjective, but you might try writing the lines thus:

He ain't got much but traps and such,
To his name I doubt there's a dime.
He's in from the hills among the frills,
For only the briefest time.

I see him here but once a year,
When he barters all his hides,
Then he's gone back out, I have no doubt.
Back over the great divide.

Jim

Like a painting!

You’re the Bob Ross of poems Jack!

It has a nice gait Jack, well done.
It reminds me very much of a trapper/recluse who lived on the shores of a large lake up near the Territories most all his life. Swede or Norwegian. His life was traveling around the lake with his dogs staying in tipi type huts he made. Came in to a fishing lodge on the lake but every few years. Fisherman would spot him from time to time. I knew someone who fished up there and had seen him along a shore. Years after I read about how they found him dead one spring in one of his huts.

Good poem.

Osky

Thanks Osky. Yeah, if you live in the bush for very long, you can probably relate to "X". Saddens me a bit to think we've probably lost most of the X's, and most likely they'll never be replaced.

Jack

Sorry Guys. Back to the top for one more chance.

Jack

Makes me think of Fabian Carey

white17 - I never met Fabian Carey, but sure heard a lot of stories, mostly from John Burns. Sounds like quite a guy.

I never knew him either but I did know his son Michael who wrote for the ADN. I talked with him at length about his dad and growing up in Minchumina.

Must have been quite a childhood !

Just as Osky described, it has a nice gait . I like that term.

Never change a thing in how you write. That's like me changing my style of art....we wouldn't be US , then. Regarding you, we all would lose out on your wonderful perspectives in very well articulated passages. Anything less, or different , and it would be as flat as wine gone sour.

Thank you for your share of winsome talents.

"Winsome" huh? I guess from you Sharon, I'll take it. Heck, you can call me anything you like.

Jack