The Banks of the River Called Miramichi
by Rev. Dale Petley
river whose waters are known everywhere,
Men sing of
her salmon and beauty so fair.
yet hidden, a great mystery,
I sing of the
river called Miramichi.
I was born on
her banks where I shed my first tear,
In the time
of Black Salmon, the Spring of the year.
And I sang my
first hymn on my Grandmother’s knee,
swift running waters of the Miramichi.
Let us sing
of a river so wild and so free.
timeless, yet changing, She flows to the sea.
short of Heaven, where I’d rather be.
banks of the river called Miramichi.
drove logs on the river with skill,
As young as I
was I remember it still.
He went to
the war so we’d always be free,
He fought for
his family and the Miramichi.
As a boy I
would swim in her waters so cool,
When older, I
guided the sports through the pools.
And often the
guides were just young lads like me,
secrets of the Miramichi.
before me I moved far away,
In search of
adventure, employment and pay.
place where I’m living is not home to me,
I long for
the banks of the Miramichi.
for power and silver and gold,
life can be bought and happiness sold.
poor who’s unable to see,
and splendors of the Miramichi.