1. |
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Ah nooch
Ni wi si ti no wak
Kah ki wi kik chik
Uh-tah ah skik
Kah shi ni poo yuk
An ni kik
Mississauga of the New Credit
Eh ko ma ka
Haudenosaunee
Eh ko ma ka
Huron-Wendat
We
We
We
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2. |
Posthuma
05:25
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Elizabeth:
Hemlock spruce lines the banks down
the river into the bay
The Mississauga “Man of Snakes” came
here to us today
In the harbour, the water is clear
The harbour water is clear
Dragon’s blood and cockspur thorns, lily
and spikenard seeds
Swamp black birds with red wings scout
the rushes and the reeds
In the harbour, the water is clear
The harbour water is clear
21-gun salute, the 18 pounders blared
“Great Sail” took him in his arms but
Francis was not scared
Katherine, sweet-tempered child
Katherine, (my) sweet-tempered child
The Governor:
Meanwhile here in the “Carrying Place”,
with this invalid deed
Mighty Trojan – in his mystic manner –
should once devour indeed
And Captain Brant sells his land to any
settler keen
This practice must not continue,
no, not by any means
I’ve a beaver blanket to make my bed
I’ve a weary heart, I’ve a leaden head
Katherine, sweet-tempered child
Elizabeth:
This surely is a fine spot covered in oak
I set fire to the long grass and watch the
flames chase the smoke
A marten with a broken tail
A marten, see the broken tail?
The Governor:
They bound Chloe Cooley and took her
across the river
And thence – to certain persons unknown
– they did deliver her
So give them their town hall meetings,
may they smack of democracy
Yet, with these violent breaches of the
peace we must end this slavery
These late spring rains brought a
muddy ride
I galloped eighteen miles to be
by your side
Katherine, happy in the Lord
Elizabeth:
What shall the children ask for that
the faeries will allow?
And the Mississauga “Man of Snakes”,
what happens to him now?
Katherine, sweet-tempered child
Katherine, (my) sweet-tempered child
Katherine, we leave you here
Katherine, the water is clear
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3. |
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Give the alarm, this beast
is jumping sixty feet,
all up and down The Esplanade
And here we’re two years on,
from McIntosh & Son
But tonight we’ll lose no one
For we answer every call, do the
Lads of Lombard Hall
Now we’ll drown this fireball, we’re
the Lads of Lombard Hall
Leliefontein, well, near enough
and much the same
Now, as then, it’s all aflame
The “Iron Block” is gone, so,
David we must move on
Tonight we’ll lose no one
In the veldts of Old Transvaal,
stood the Lads of Lombard Hall
Now we’ll drown that fireball,
we’re the Lads of Lombard Hall
I still see those helmets shining in the sun
Pulled brick-from-brick ‘til they were
gone,and then we crept along,
One silent, moving throng
We walked that city-long (75,000 strong)
And we heard ‘Dead March’ from Saul,
for the Lads of Lombard Hall
For they’d caught that falling wall,
did the Lads of Lombard Hall
For we answer every call, do the
Lads of Lombard Hall
And tonight we’re ten-foot tall, we’re
the Lads of Lombard Hall
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4. |
KHAQQ (Hold On)
03:47
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You rode the Carlton Streetcar,
west towards Spadina, to tend the
walking wounded from the war
Up at Armour Heights, you
imagined new horizons
Courtesy the Royal Flying Corps
I hear you, every morn, calling out in distress
Said: “hold on to this line,
Do you think they got our SOS?”
On 20 volts and 19 cycles, calls KHAQQ,
booming off the earth’s ionosphere
From somewhere north of Howland
Island to Ashdale Avenue
This ham received your message crystal clear
I hold on, to this line, Yes. I got your SOS
What do dreams know of boundaries?
That’s not what dreams are for
No borders when you’re soaring
heaven-high
But Amelia they can’t see you,
though you’re on my radio
Caught between the ocean and the
deep blue sky
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5. |
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Get down brother, they’re far too near
with long noses to smell, yet no tufts
on their ears
Your spoor and your rustling will lead
them straight here
And there’s no excuse to be so cavalier
Get down brother, let us repair
It’s not a twilight hunt for a snowshoe hare
I’d sooner be done with the cursed affair
Get down, get down, get down
Come up sister and see the view
They’re so far in the distance,
they won’t notice you
And there’s plenty of woodland
and time if they do… to get down,
get down, get down
Come up sister, it’s perfectly fine
Their teeth and their claws, well,
there no match for mine
Not to mention you: you’re so
lithe and so leonine
Come up, come up, come up
Oh dear brother, pray mind your back
They’ve set a snare at the roots
of our sumach
There’s a tingle in my tail and
I’m sensing attack
And should they appear, well,
there’s no turning back
Now dear brother, between and betwixt
With their comings and goings,
you’re completely transfixed
See that skin of the cross-fox?
Our skin may be next
Get down, get down, get down
Come up sister enjoy the view
They’re surprisingly frail and
their options are few
And there’s not one of us;
remember we’re two…
to hunt down, hunt down, hunt down
Come up sister let us take pride
There’s no call to retreat, no reason to hide
We’ll tail them, assail them o’er the
whole woodland-wide
Come up, come up, come up
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6. |
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Betty, ‘Splice the Mainbrace’
The Rangers are on song
And Master Ely’s had his eye on
Miss Sophia for so long
So shall we have ‘The Duke of York’,
or ‘The Reconciliation Reel’?
I’ll rosin up my bow and bring these
restless strings to heel,
and tell my tale most leal
Here in Playter’s Tavern, down at
King and Caroline
The air too pure for a slave to breathe,
it sweet like Brandywine
For here there is no “other”
Here there is no “tribe”
Wheel and tun, mek we wheel and tun
Wheel and tun, mek we wheel and tun
On Market Day the hogs run free,
But not all o’ we hold liberty
Peggy Pompadour remains Peter
Russell’s property
Raise a grog to The Ethiopians, Pioneers
and The Black Brigade
Loyalists who chose to fight the dutty
Yankee renegades,
with musket, bayonet and blade
Jack Mantora we no choose any
Jack Mantora we no choose none
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7. |
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Blankenburg 1918: leather boots
for Mr. Smythe
At home a Philistine waves a
hammer and a scythe
Come the guillotine, come a
wriggle and a writhe
Who would not betray us in the end?
Lullaby, by-low
And now to Old Shanghai, yet another
“Shadow Show”
In the fire of the eyes of each conquistador
The bonfire bright the night we won the war
She met her Russian at The Grange,
by Zhuvosky’s ‘Evening Moon’
A casual exchange: transcendental afternoon
Was it prearranged? Was it much too soon?
A “Tableau Vivant”, unreal, “Docia, my love”
A.Y. Jackson taught her well,
though life was rarely “still”
In the racing of her heart, the shaking of her core
The bonfire bright the night we won the war
“Docia, my love”
‘46: Year of the Dog, riches, prosperity
Watch Maria as a sylph, feet barely touch the floor
Like when young Barilko scored
The bonfire bright the night we won the war
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8. |
Happy Little Sisyphus
04:01
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We the bacteria, eat at separate tables
in the cafeteria
Here, the dull chew authentic bread
A lone philosopher wishes he were dead
And who dare breach these Byzantine
borders, that keeps us all in stunning,
running order?
Do our narratives e’re intertwine?
Or is it a case of you show yours and
I’ll show mine?
And which allele do you need
to feel this song?
Which allele would make it all sound wrong?
And which allele do you need
to feel human?
There’s a happy little Sisyphus
pushing her rock, ticking her boxes,
pushing her rock
It’s a small world after all, but the “you”
according to you is apocryphal
Who then gets to tell the story of us?
Is it a story we can’t tell just because,
because, because?
Of which allele…
We enact our ethnicity, all along
the ethnic frontlines of the city
Here, the dull dread the righteous cause:
“to see oursels as ithers” surely see us,
and each allele…
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9. |
Fort Rouille
03:16
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n/a
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10. |
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The sun creeps clear across his daddy‘s eyes
It’s time to touch the clouds
Armed with just a thermos and a union card,
he reminds his son to do him proud
See, Eugene’s daddy works within the fi re,
and fastens iron rivets to the sky
Scaling up and scaling up
He never met a height too high
You can see the treetops of the
Hudson River,
and hear the winds of old swirl around
high steel
Only in his dreams, can Eugene “walk
the iron”
Only in his dreams, can Eugene really feel
Only in his dreams, there’s no fear of fl ying,
No fear of anything at all, no fear of dying
He’s on top of the tower, on top of the world
The son looks up for his daddy‘s eyes
Where faith is iron-bound
But one wrong step from a tired mind
And an Eagle hits the ground
CN builds its ladder up to heaven
But maybe fear has clipped this young
hawk’s wings
They pay you more at a 1,000 feet
That’s where you can see everything
You can see the treetops of the Humber
Valley and hear the winds of old swirl
around high steel
Only in his dreams, can Eugene
“walk the iron”
Only in his dreams, can Eugene really feel
Only in his dreams, there’s...
Reaching, calling, clutching, crawling
One more step and Eugene won’t let go
Only in his dreams can Eugene see his father
Only in his dreams can Eugene really feel…
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Jason Wilson Toronto, Ontario
Jason Wilson is a two-time Juno-Awards nominee, CRMA winner and
Bestselling author from Downsview, Ontario. He is the
protégé of Studio One keyboardist Jackie
Mittoo and has performed and recorded with UB40, Sly & Robbie, Brinsley
Forde, Ernest Ranglin, Pee Wee Ellis, Dave Swarbrick
and Alanis Morissette. An Adjunct-Professor of history, Dr. Wilson has six books to his name.
... more
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