You want your maple syrup?
(Remember that little spoiled brat piping:
"I want my Maypo"?)
Well, I want my forest without tubes
Crisscrossing the forest scape
All the way up the hill
And you can see a long way
Because there aren't any leaves yet
Just buds and behind the barn
Is the smoke from the sugar shack
Boiling down the sap to a nice amber
For you pancakes
No one calls 'um flapjacks any more
That goes back to the British occupation
"Jack" was a British common man
A subject of the King
Probably a hard-workin' son of a gun
Like the guys in my image of the old way
Of collecting sap, with galvanized buckets
And horsepower. No one wants
To go back to the old days
But back then at least you could
Walk unobstructed up through a sugarbush
And lift the lid of a bucket
To see how the sap was flowing.
