A poem written by Emilie Zaritsky
Our Elders are our pride today,
With memories of our past.
Their stories and songs will always be,
A very big part of our history.
Like frozen bannock sandwiches,
And patches on their clothes.
They laugh and cry and sometimes sigh,
With that special look in their tired eyes.
They worked so hard,
To make ends meet,
Their jobs were never done.
To plough the fields,
And cut the hay,
All done by hand,
Till the end of day.
Then they would dance,
And have some fun,
And maybe a little ‘hootch’
Sundays were always their day to rest,
Then off to church they’d go,
To thank the Lord and sing their praise,
For their many blessings and each new day.
Our Elders mean the world to us,
Always there without a fuss.
We love you.