Author: dgarrett

The Promise

For so long the land lay waiting, undisturbed until that day,
When their footsteps crashed like thunder, bringing dreams from seas away.
Like great waves they filled the forests. Onward as a mighty flood.
Steel rails reaching for horizons, gripping sleepy prairie mud.

As they filtered through the mountains, as they plowed the eager earth, 
A vision burned within their hearts – a nation was in birth.
They built with strong traditions, they dreamed upon their youth,
This nation of the future: A nation built on truth.

Tell me brother, tell me sister, are you not the ones they bore?
Are you not the ones they witnessed that made their spirits soar?
They left for you a nation, they sowed you in this land.
They put these gifts of nature into your waiting hand.

Have you seen the nations wealthy standing on the nations poor?
Longed for strong and righteous leaders to keep crisis from our door?
We now face the troubled future. Hope’s not vested in the weak.
You were born to keep a promise. It is you they search and seek.

Hush your chatter, pause your laughter, still your hands from noisy toil.
Hear the sound the soft wind whispers, bringing voices from the soil.
Wake up, wake up, its urges. Claim your legacy and land.
Faith will fill your heart with courage. God will guide your trembling hand.

-Doug Garrett

Nephi’s Lament

Based on: 2 Nephi: 28-35
Set to the music of: You Raise Me Up

Awake my soul, no longer droop in sin. Slack not thy pace because of faults therein.
Rejoice my heart and cry unto the Lord. Give place for him and waken to his word.

Lest I give room for evil in my heart, destroyer of my peace from me depart.
I’ll not embrace the scorn of pressing foes; The gates of righteousness to these will close.

My God, my rock, forever be my might. Upon the wings of truth my soul take flight.
No more the groaning of my heart dissuade, nor lead me from my promises hence made.

-Doug Garrett

The Road

The road leads on and on and on
in never ending line, 
The present and the future scenes –
The rest is left behind.

The white clouds are the memories
And as they come and go,
Remind me of forgotten times
That I feel I should know.

-Doug Garrett

Modern Pioneer Reality

This poem was written in 1965 when I packed up my family and moved from Montreal, Quebec to Calgary, Alberta Canada. We truly felt like pioneers moving our way west to make a new home.

Oh pity the Western bound stranger, with sunburned and leathery face.
Whose eyes gleam of hope and adventure to be found in that faraway place.
Just like a pioneer he travels, but now it is for frolic and fun,
As he steers his chrome studded wagon, his camera replacing his gun.

Now behold, oh misguided observer. See the bumps on his weather tanned face.
And note how vigorously he scratches, black fly bites all over the place.
And see how he stares ahead proudly, hand shading his brow firm and strong.
The look is not proud, its desperation –  as he searches in vain for a John. 

-Doug Garrett

The Little Red Hen Rap

“Who will help me to make some bread?”
“Not me Hen Mother, I feel half dead.”
“Out of sight cool chick,” said Ol’ Hen Mother,
“I guess I’ll have to find another.”

So off she went through the Barn Yard City,
Until she met a real wild kitty.
“Hey Cool Cat, I’ve got some dough,
Needs a little like, kneading though?”

“How about you and me together,
Fling your fur while I flap my feather?”
Get lost Mumsie, I read you clear,
But I ain’t got time for working here.

“Got a red hot band with a far out tune.”
So cat checked out that afternoon.
Then she saw a big old cow.
“Help. Help Milk Maiden like, I mean right now.”

“I got this flour that’s high on yeast,
I’m just about ready to make a feast.
But I need some muscle to pull and push,
Cause the scene right now is flat, white mush.”

“I’d love to help you Feathered Lady,
But it just so happens I’m getting ready
For a dairy meeting in Saskatoon –
Some cow tried jumping over the moon.”

“I’ve got to get some compensation.”
With that, Red Hen packed the conversation.
Back to the kitchen all by herself,
She took the white mush off the shelf,

Set to with all her might and main,
Wretched her back, gave her neck a sprain, 
But finally the loaves were in the larder.
Mother Hen just couldn’t go farther.

“Hey, Hey! Hen Mother, what’s that I smell?
You’re a real bread swinger, I hear tell.
From the look of that bread, I’m just in time,
To ease that hunger pain of mine.”

Back on the veranda came a soft “ Meow,”
“I wouldn’t miss this scene no how.
How about bringing my band inside,
While we try this dough that Mumsie fried?”

Now old Milk Maiden made the scene,
“Our Milk Board members would turn bright green
If I brought them some of this invention,
to liven up their Milk convention.”

“Now hold on, Ethel,” cried Ol’ Red Hen.
She raised her voice and she said again,
“You girls drive me to complete distraction,
Where were y’all when I needed action?”

“You don’t fool me, cause I know the score,
So you better help out, a whole lot more!
Cook Chick, you come off that wall,
And lay a dozen, Grade A Small.

And cat, start up your band quartet,
And we just might do some swinging yet.
You gotta spin before you get to wear silk.”
“She’s right,” said cow. “Here’s a gallon of milk.”

So they all got fed, cause they each took part,
Each gave what little they could impart.
They remembered the lesson of Ol’ Hen Mother:
Work goes best with one another .

-Doug Garrett

The Stranger

( Adapted from a popular Curling song.)

Whose that stranger, Mother dear? Look he knows us, ain’t that queer!

Hush my own. Don’t act so dumb. He’s your Father, dearest one.

He’s my Father? Not at all. Father passed away last fall.

Father didn’t die, you urchin. Father’s just been busy church’in.

Now he’s been released you see. Has no place to go or be.

No assignments to speak or phone. That is why he’s always home.

(Maybe he’ll be in the Stake. That would give us all a break.)

Kiss him. He won’t hurt you pet. He’s just  not quiet adjusted yet.

-Doug Garrett

When the Day Has Turned to Silver

When the day has turned to silver and the golden threads slip westward in the sky.
When the memory clouds are gathering of the good times had together, you and I.
Will the warm coals of our friendship glow more brightly by the gentleness we find?
When the days have turned to silver and we think about the memories on our mind.

-Doug Garrett

Ungrateful Mouse

Oh little mouse around our house, we know that you are there. 
We share our roof and all therein, our cupboards’ never bare.
Appreciations’ not out of line, I’m sure you get the drift.
A “thank you” would do it fine, considering the gift.
I’ll speak to Daddy when he comes and ask him “ If you please,
Don’t fill the traps with moldy crumbs. Let’s use some nice new cheese.”

-Doug Garrett

If Only I Could Spell

I never got a Valantine, I know it sounds absurd.
I never sent a Velantine, I couldn’t spell the word.
But lady luck was good to me, I don’t deserve my fate.
She overlooked my ignorance and sent to me my mate.
She cooks, she cleans, my every wish is taken care, I tell.
So here’s to you my Vallentine, if only I could spell.

-Doug Garrett