Let’s backward roll our memory’s scroll
To the days of the pioneers
When the old square clock on the kitchen wall
Ticked away the silent years
And struck with a solemn warning sound
The knell of each dying hour
As passed away the shortening day
And the night began to lower
And the old gun hung on the kitchen beams
That were hewn straight, square and true
Not even a mark of the hewers axe
So skilled was the hand to hew
And the old stove cracked with tamarack wood
And a fire that was warm and bright
While whirled around the little log house
The snow of a stormy night
And the wind it sobbed about the eaves
Like a spirit of hopes and fears
For these were the heroic days
The days of the pioneers
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Let’s backward roll our memory’s scroll
To the days of the pioneers
When the white smoke rose with a crispy smell
From the field he toiled to clear
And the logging chain clinked around the logs
That were hauled to the flaming fire
And heaved aloft by sturdy hands
High on their funeral pyre
And the air was scented with roots of pine
And the tang of the virgin sand
And they ranged the stumps in battle line
To guard the fallow land
And the harness cracked as the willing team
Strained at their useful toil
While they dragged the harrow to and fro
To tickle the virgin soil
And at eventide their handspikes stood
More useful than Roman spears
For these were the heroic day
The days of the pioneers
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Let’s backward roll our memory’s scroll
To the days of the pioneers
When the old log barn on the rising knoll
Rose proudly tier on tier
And gathered around the girls and lads
To help at the raising bee
As they forward looked with lightsome hearts
To an old time raising spree
When the floor was clear and the fiddler sat
In the corner and crossed his legs
And blew in the scroll of his ancient ‘strad’
To tighten the slipping pegs
And the ‘caller off’ shouts “All arrange”
And away goes the eight hand reel
And the floor resounds with their dancing feet
As through the set they wheel
And at dawn of day they homeward wend
As gallant as lords and peers
For these were the heroic days
The days of the pioneers
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Let’s backward roll our memory’s scroll
To the church of the pioneers
Where all around the marble slabs
Lean with the weight of years
Where the pioneers each Sabbath day
Lifted their hearts to God
Where now they take their well earned rest
Beneath the verdant sod
And the wind blows over their lowly graves
And bends the long green grass
And the wildflowers nod their drooping heads
To the breezes as they pass
Let’s bring fresh wreaths of the rarest flowers
Tributes to the brave and the true
And lay them down upon their graves
Tokens of honour due
Let’s deck these graves where the heroes sleep
Worthy a nation’s tears
For these were the heroic days
The days of the pioneers