The Ballad of the Kluane Shiplap Spruce Boat

Riveted, shiplap on rib construction.  This is from an OLD boat.

In the days long ago, when the land was full of snow

A healthy old spruce tree was growin'

Reaching up high from the north summer light

Near a cool mountain stream ever-flowin'

A strong sense of place with its roots in embrace

Of the rocks and the sand and the soil

It could not foresee the great axe-swinging spree

Of a boat-builder ready for toil

If fell to the ground with a great thudding sound

Its needles and branches a-snappin'

Then dragged a few miles, cut, and thrown into piles

All the while asking "How could this happen?"

As the spruce lumber dried the great boat-builder cried:

"A fine little craft this will make here

For Kluane Lake has a tonne of fish to take

In the deep Yukon waters, cold and clear."

He measured and cut from the tip to the butt

Then he ran each new board through the planer

He fitted each slat and then riveted each flat

'Till he had him a floating container

So proud of his boat, he then set the thing afloat

And then rowed it across Lake Kluane

It had been too long since his last hooch and song

With his brother-in-law, Skookum Johnny

What he didn't know is the spruce refused to go

Any further from its place of growing

With a pop and a crack the boat split down its back

Then into the craft water was flowing

The boatman, I'm sure, never made it to shore

Kluane Lake water is chilling

The moral, you see, is to never cut a tree

Unless it is ready and willing

Washed high ashore.