The Christmas Mail with Apologies to Robert Browning

The Christmas Mail Makes Camp by T.A.Simpkins, Advertising Department, Hudson's Bay Company, Winnipeg

Not a word to each other, we were outwardly calm,
Day by day, week by week, showing never a qualm.
But we looked to the sky and we prayed for the snow,
We hoped that the ‘plane to the fort would soon go;
Regarding each other, expecting to hear
The scurry of teams ere the close of the year.

The days flew past quickly, and Christmas drew nigh.
From the North a cold wind sent the clouds scudding by;
Then snow at Hay River brought joy and sweet peace
As prophets declared that it never would cease.
But, from the wash basin, the boss at his dook
Next day, said “Good morning, another Chinook.”

From Carcajou Point right down to Vermilion,
The farmers and traders were up in rebellion,
Deriding the airways, who already had waited,
Two weeks past the time of delivery stated.
In the end, to Peace River a wire came to hand,
With these few simple words, “Sending mail overland.”

“It is Christmas,” Dave groaned, “and there isn’t a letter”;
“And as for the weather, it couldn’t be better.”
The sun shone on high; we could feel the warm breeze;
While the glistening snow softly dropped from the trees,
Till, through the store window, the view held our sight –
A prairie of green, with a few spots of white.

Next day, just at six, as we sat down to eat,
We sprang to the door, fresh arrivals to greet.
A dog-team drew up with a small sack of mail.
And here is the point where I finish my tale;
For, after six weeks of high tension fever,
Our mail was a copy of September Beaver.