No highway there led down the way they followed.
No pavement smoothed the way beneath their feet.
No signposts, roads or avenues they needed.
They'd never walked upon a city street.
Just fresh untrodden snow was there before them.
And snowshoe tracks was all that lay behind.
Alone they tramped the long and lonely traplines
And knew content and ease and peace of mind.
Alone they lay beside their glowing campfires
Read and retread the writing on a can
And slept and woke and fed their fires and dreamed
Of home, comfort and summer in the land.
A way of life that now is swiftly passing.
And in a world for them grown cool and strange
There slowly fades away a breed of man
Adrift and lost upon the winds of change.