Ed Poe in Yellowknife

On top of Old Knobby,
All covered with flies,
I lay on the granite
And studied the skies.

I lay there all summer—
Two days and a half—
When a raven lit near me
And started to laugh :

“I see by your outfit
You come from the south!”
Then he made a rude gesture
And rattled his mouth.

Not surprised in the least
That a raven could talk,
I reached down beside me
And picked up a rock.

Quoth the raven, “Hey, whoa!
By that sign I suppose
That you’re an old-timer
In spite of your clothes!”

Then he danced all around,
Keeping just out of reach,
And thus gave me a moment
To polish my speech :

“I am better than that!
I’m the Salt of the Earth,
A true-born Canadian,
A child of the North!

“From the waters down east
To the waters out west,
And the ones from up north
That get mixed with the rest,

I have followed my trade
And I’ve stuck to my word—
So I’ll take no more bullshit
From some stupid bird.”

He shook his head sadly,
“My mother once said
If I ever went North
I would wish I were dead.

“I should never have come
To this ill-favoured shore—
I'm Baltimore bound
Where I'll sing : ‘Nevermore!’”

Then he, lifting his wings,
Drifted up to the skies,
Where the mists of Aurora
Were starting to rise,

And I heard him exclaim
As he faded from sight :
“Goodbye! Have a nice day—
Even when it’s all night!”