South Peace Historical Society

    • Home
    • About / Contact Us
    • About Dorthea Horton
    • About This Collection
    • Bibliography
    • Brief History of the Peace
    • Credits
    • South Peace Historical Society Archives (External Link)
  • Table of Contents

    • Part 1: First Nations of the Peace River Region
    • Part 2: The Fur Trade Era
    • Part 3: Transportation and Communication
    • Part 4: Old Timers and the Price of Land
    • Part 5: Dawson Creek: The Story of the Community
    • Part 6: Mysteries, Adventures and Indian Legends
    • Part 7: Arts, Crafts and Recreation
    • Part 8: Agriculture
    • Part 9: Church Histories
    • Part 10: Schools
    • Part 11: Health Care
    • Part 12: Industries and Enterprises
    • Part 13: Policing the Peace
    • Part 14: Pouce Coupe, Rolla, and Other South Peace Communities
    • Part 15: Chetwynd and the Fort St. John Area
    • Part 16: The Alberta Peace
    • Part 17: Natural History of the Peace River Region
    • Part 18: Interviews with Old Timers
    • Part 19: Remembering Our Veterans

  •  

07-031: Three Poems by Manton E. Freeman

 

The Poetry of Manton E. “Dad” Freeman

We don’t know a lot about “Dad” Freeman or just exactly where his homestead was – somewhere near the old road from Hythe to Pouce Coupe but on the other side of Canyon Creek. According to an early teacher in the area, Charlie Ovans, Mr. Freeman was “a very old man” in 1933 or 1934 when he acted as the janitor in the long-gone High Ridge School.

Mr. Freeman was a bit of a poet and recently some of the poems he wrote while living near Pouce have been sent home by a great-grandson, Charles Hart. Here are three examples:

The Mosquito

By M.E. Freeman

Oh the cussed mosquito

With his persistent hum

When I lie down to rest

He is certain to come

And alight on my forehead

My face or my nose

And present me his bill

As I’m just in a doze.

I may say a few cuss words

But though however deft

I seem always to slap

At the place he just left

But he comes back again

To disturb my repose

Why he was created

Surely only God knows.

Now where they all come from

I am sure I can’t tell

But I think it must be

From the suburbs of h—.

 

INDEPENDENCE

by M. E. Freeman

My home is near Pouce Coupe,

Not many miles from town;

And I don’t care a whoopee

If they call me Jones or Brown.

I have bread & praties plenty,

And a good roof o’er my head.

My age is over twenty

Just how much I’ve never said.

I can work when I feel like it

There is no boss over me

And if I want to hike it

There are none to care a D.

The rich may have their autos

The devil a bit I care

I have my own two trotters

That can take me anywhere.

Let the roads be dry or muddy

I don’t have to put on chains

And I do not have to study

If the sun shines or it rains.

I can just get up and travel

At any time I like

And I only scratch the gravel

As I toddle down the pike.

Tho’ some may like the city

The country life for me

Where I do not ask for pity

Or live on charity.

There are some might call me crazy

I do not care a bit

But am I tired or lazy?

Use you own name for it.

They may send me to the ‘Sylum

Or put me in the pen

If I should chance to rile ’em

I do not care, by hen.

Should I like a glass of toddy

With nobody there to see,

Well — I care for nobody,

And nobody cares for me.

 

On the Banks of Canyon Creek

by Manton Eastbourne Freeman

It is just a log shack on the hillside

But it’s mine, and a place to call home

Where I’m not a burden to others

As I linger along all alone.

It is years since my dear one departed

I must finish my life’s journey alone

And tho’ I may go on broken hearted

No sorrows of mine can atone.

For the hardships that we suffered together

In the years that are long past and gone

Through stormy or sunshiny weather

As we struggled along for a home.

She sleeps on a hill in the sunshine

Resting free from all sorrow and care

Her soul is at home with her Saviour

I am praying that I’ll meet her there.

I am lonely tonight for my children

They are scattered afar from my home

They all have their joys and their sorrows

Will they think of me when I am gone?

On this earth I may never more meet them

Their laughter may ne’er cheer me more,

But I pray God someday I may greet them

Safe at home on the Evergreen shore.

And when with this life I have finished

And God calls me home to my rest

May their joys never more be diminished

He knoweth their need and will bless.

« 07-030: Some Hockey Teams of the Past

07-032: Weaving – Dorothy Powell »

© 2023 South Peace Historical Society. All Rights Reserved.