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Valley Home

by Joe Vickers

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1.
I crossed the Atlantic Ocean As a young immigrant man Searching to build a better life Upon this foreign land I traveled to the western frontier Where my new home was found Upon the coal belt of Alberta Pioneering the underground Into the darkness, I go Into the darkness, I go Digging for coal in the mighty depths below Into the darkness, I go My brothers look just like me A face darkened by the stone Eyes hold many expressions None of which are shown Our courage is wrapped tightly Underneath dirty work clothes A kerosene lamps guides our steps Into the darkness, we go Into the darkness, we go Into the darkness, we go I am just one soldier in an army of brave souls Into the darkness, we go I’m no stranger to dancing with danger Amongst the shadows of the shaft My shaky bones feel the wrath of the dynamite blasts Forever fearful of the methane gas All throughout the pitch-black Fires and accidents we endure the cruel conditions All the risks that rage do not reflect upon our wage I’d seek another if this weren’t the only way Into the darkness, we go Into the darkness, we go Putting our lives on the line when we step into the mines Into the darkness, we go In the short winter days It is darkness in the mornings When my day long shift begins And at job end it is dusk by then No sunshine do my eyes ever see I hear the haunting echoes; toward them I follow Praying not too meet disbelief All of my working days, I curse and I praise My labour on my hands and knees On the inside of my helmet I’ve scratched a list so long A list of initials to whom belong The names of the men I have worked with who have fallen Into the darkness, they have gone If there’s light at the end of the tunnel my friends See for me there is enough room For just another old Drumheller miner Out of the darkness, I’ll be coming soon
2.
The spokes were spinning On a wagon wheel Destined for the pastures South of the Handhills Beating down a new path Over native treads Leading toward The founded homestead I rustled me herd Of cattle along We crossed the creek Then circled the canyon Until the gentlest slope Allowed for a descent Down into the valley The trail ended The Pioneer Trail, the Pioneer Trail led To the entrance of the prairie hinterland Ranching cattle and breaking the land I found settlement on the hinterland The frozen Red Deer River Served as a highway For the car I hired To drive me Where a deal was pending Between Greentree and I I sought to transform the Seams into a work site We signed a deal on Sunday His homestead I bought But the lease was split When doubted in the court of law But as the tracks stretched Into land we claimed The district acquired The title of my name The Pioneer Trail, the Pioneer Trail led To the entrance of the prairie hinterland With an interest as a businessman I found settlement on the hinterland From Pennsylvania I traveled to these hills Where jobs were more plentiful Than men could fill I jumped off the freighter At the first camp we passed The boss gave me a Pair of overhauls and a head lamp I bunked in with some foreigners In a makeshift shack Figured I’d make some dough Before returning to the tracks But my story unraveled Like other immigrants Here within the badlands My roots were planted The Pioneer Trail, the Pioneer Trail led To the entrance of the prairie hinterland I built anew with my two bare hands I found settlement on the hinterland
3.
4.
In Struggle 03:16
The sunlight shines through the walls Of the whitewash chicken coop I call My dear old shack, my home sweet home With three others I’m bunked along In the labour camp I call “the world” So it is as far as I can see After all, the boys here to work are of Nearly every nationality We don’t share a language We don’t share a heritage Yet we are bound by this profession and strife And in this struggle we are unified All the fights have led to losses Against the owners and the bosses We’ve been silenced, we’ve been condemned Yet we’ll agitate until we win Because the roll backs And credit given Is no way to make An honest living When they take the bread And give us the crust It stratifies like the Walls surrounding us There’s no denying, brothers We have strength in numbers Right here is where our politics align In this struggle we are unified
5.
Down in the depths of the coulee Yonder beneath the ground I hear a funeral procession In the key of a mournful sound The preacher tells the congregation, “Each winter a miner is killed So that all may keep their houses warm So all may cook warm meals.” My tag was left at the entry way In here, the hazards we trust When I heard the rumble, the rocks did tumble I choked on the devil’s dust The roof came caving in A rock pinned me to the floor The place I slave is now my grave Don’t call for rescue anymore The tunnel bumped, the boulders crashed And just like that I was done My fears came to life and my thoughts were that “The day had finally come” The music was fading The canary sang me one last song Before I rest, I drew one last breath From my young black lungs
6.
1919 Strike 04:00
The year was 1919 and coal was king The crown titled upon the head Of a few mine owners while the Working masses suffered at the hands of them The United Mine Workers of America Neglected to fulfill its obligation To represent the workers’ interest Of better wages and conditions UMWA was a tight affiliate Of the companies all along So the One Big Union stepped into the valley And answered to the struggle’s call They rallied the miners and their families To trust the powers held within the production’s mean On the 24th of May, the workers organized A walkout in pursuit of a better life One by one, they marched out of the mines Trading their pickaxes for the picket line Chanting, “No more shall This place be known as Hell’s Hole!” The mine operators openly refused To negotiate with O.B.U. Instead they employed a special brigade Of constables to bust the strikers’ parade A ten dollar daily wage was given to these goons Along with brass knuckles, crowbars, and booze With the intent to break the back Of the strike, they purged a ruthless attack On patrol the “special services” coerced Forcing the strikers back to work If met with resistance, the outcome was grave Often leading to a bloody fate While the passives were hauled back to the coalfields The others were beaten and abandoned in the hills As conflict escalated, houses were raided Not one place in the valley could you find a safe haven One by one, they were beaten down The movement was busted and burnt to the ground All in the name of retaining control Of Hell’s hole In September the strike met its bitter end The spirit was trampled but not left for dead In the wake of violence, division was born Ushering in the valley’s union civil war For the next thirty years tensions kept a-brew Until worker demands were introduced All thanks to the efforts of the labour unrest Help transform Hell’s Hole into the Wonderland of the West
7.
Oh Mother Mary I’ve heard the praise Of a hundred different voice calling our names You’re curious of the red shaded lights But if you ask me no question, I’ll tell you no lies On the Western Front is where I live It’s the business centre for my services The bachelors are looking for deliverance They’re looking for love but love I cannot give The whistle blows the Friday countdown It’s a shave and a shine then a race into town With cheques in their pockets and fire in their eyes It’s been a long week and the weekend has arrived Anticipation fills the air The buildings are packed and the streets are never bare Temptations grip at their wage As quickly as it’s cashed it is wasted away From the banks to the bars, they’re on parade Looking for excitement and to be entertained Come Monday morning it’ll be all the same Back on the job, broke and tired again But for now, the first couple rounds Are on the house and nothing is finer They boast of the heaviest loads while The courage flows, numbers keep getter higher The sound of the Weekend Waltz Won’t come to a halt until early Monday morning There’s no regards, for it’s just a start Going to lose their hearts and money while singing
8.
I saw her weeping From the window of the train Even though I could not guarantee it I promised her I’d be coming home again I would think of her standing on the platform As I fought from the trenches of Europe When my heart and mind wore with the attrition The thought of her kept my spirits up ‘Cause my eyes have seen many horrors None of which I will ever share Amidst my despair, I painfully long To be with her in our valley home For every sight of pain I witnessed I balanced it with an image of home Cause the site of surrounding canyon walls Captures beauty by the bushel Stratum layers are stacked from high to low The evergreen and sage brush grow At the cutbank where the Red Deer River flows I’ll wed you there I promise you when I come home ‘Cause my eyes have seen many horrors None of which I will ever share Amidst my despair, I painfully long To be her in our valley home And at the end of the war I stepped back onto that old platform She wasn’t there awaiting Her mother came to informed She’d fallen to the Spanish Flu And it done carried her away So just like overseas, longing for her Forever in my heart she will stay
9.
When the winter dies And the spring comes along It’s the end of the work term; Start of the off-season There is no paycheck To be living on So we live off the land And we nourish the bond We’ll plant a big garden And fetch saskatoons We’ll can for the winter To ensure full spoons When the home needs repair You know, you haven’t far to go When items from the company Are “free” to borrow In these times that are hard We’ll make a penny stretch real far In solidarity, we help Out each other’s families What we have is all we need And we’ll make do with what we have and do without On the banks of the Red Deer Time is often spent Whistling and fishing Waiting for the sticks to bend Thinking about the credit I racked up in the store And how I’ll pay it back When the work is in order It is bred into our bones Not to waste anything A budget mind makes For living on a shoe string If there’s food on the table And a roof over our heads It’s safe to say that all Our needs have been met In these times that are hard We’ll make a penny stretch real far In solidarity, we help Out each other’s families What we have is all we need And we’ll make do with what We have and do without
10.
Pit Pals 03:56
n the pits of the Monarch In their stable I was born At the end of the hungry Thirties At the start of the second war I was trained to be a leader Of a driving spike team Six full years of pulling and hauling Before daylight shone upon me At the command of your whistle I knew where to wait Right next to my harness and buckles Where we began our work days My intuition warned Of tragedy below I did my darnedest to keep our names Off of that forsaken honour roll Our partnership was strong It was never in doubt Despite the love we had for another It was never talked about Your wife was a darling There always was without fail An extra slice of rhubarb pie Packed for me within your lunch pail You mended my footwear Whenever I tossed a shoe The brushing of your callused fingers Calmed me down whenever I was spooked We worked through the hard times We shared a few close calls Like the head-on trip we derailed for Oh lord, we managed through it all On the last trip out Of the familiar gopher hole We switched roles and you guided me To where the west winds blow Then you removed The bandages from my eyes The hills illuminated as I caught My first glimpse of daylight
11.
Flood of '48 02:58
In the spring of 1948 The river broke at a rapid pace Ice was jammed at the Coulee’s gate And a dam it did create The current caught; pressure built The tributaries quickly filled Levels rose with only one place to go So from her banks, she spilt All the townsfolk were fleeing for higher ground The river rising up and the city sinking down If it weren’t for the mercy trip to Wayne Old Johnny would have been left for dead They found him lying underneath wet sheets Surrounded by water in bed The ponies were trapped in the mine Mr. Guidolin couldn’t live to see them die So he tied each tail to a bridle and guided The train to safety’s side All the townsfolk were fleeing for higher ground The river rising up and the city sinking down Together they banded All one could do was withstand And try to tread the lake Upon the land On the third day she peaked At a height of twenty-one feet All that was left underneath the line Was washed away with her raging tide Orders were sent to blow The East Coulee bridge to let the river flow The flying debris took the life of Dorothea The flood ended in tragedy All the townsfolk were fleeing for higher ground The river rising up and the city sinking down
12.
Allan Cup 04:27
In the foyer of our old barn There is a showcase dedicated To the past years’ crowning achievements Ever witness down here at all Every winter as I walked With a bag on my shoulder I would stop To see the faces brightly lit up In pictures holding that silver cup And the year was ’66 When their name was engraved on it The inscription was an epitaph It’d be the first time, it’d be the last In the stories told by my grandfather This place was packed right to the rafters Contrary to all I have seen The empty seats once held belief When the spirit of the Bentley five Fought the depression and brought the town alive Before the family split to the better times The first squad folded was later revived When the reincarnation led To where they hoisted that prize overhead Allan was traveling on the homeward path It’d be the first time, it’d be the last No need was there for pardon The ringer held up his end of the bargain The guardianship within the crease Secured a guaranteed victory For another decade, the team remained But never again was that championship claimed So the rink’s name took on a new meaning To relive those glory days when in the building And the year was ’66 When their name was engraved on it The inscription was an epitaph It’d be the first time, it’d be the last
13.
So long, remember Our rustic legacy Every blue sky fades to grey Gone are the days Gone are the days of the bustle Gone are the days of pick and spade Gone are the boomers and industrial trade Along with its pioneer ways His grand-daddy was a miner Like him his father was the same When oil struck north, time turned a page And it came to them as a crying shame He shoveled a lifetime down yonder Was a faithful workers through and through When they closed down the mine, a part of him did die And so did the life he knew Gone is the smell of burning sulfur Gone is the curtain of blue haze When things shut down, uprooted was the town And all that was left were memories Production slowed down Until it reached the end The gears slipped and stalled, the writing was on the wall The final chapter was being read The departure left a mark A bitterness left in their hearts Saying so long, he couldn’t hold back the tears After all, it’s what brought the family here Our secondary line No longer operates So the kids of today who walk down the ancient lanes Won’t count rail cars that we did at their age So long, remember Our rustic legacy Every blue sky fades to grey Gone are the days

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Commemorative Centennial Album

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released July 19, 2011

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Joe Vickers Drumheller, Alberta

Farmer by day, troubadour by night, Joe Vickers has logged countless miles on both his combine and tour van. His music explores the human spirit singing of the triumphs and tragedies of everyday life on the prairies.

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