“My Other Brother”


We grew up in Old Crow Yukon

me and my friend William Nukon.

He was like my other brother

an’ he was liked by my mother.

William always tells funny jokes

an’ we always work for old folks.

We always saw and pack wood

and they always fed us good.

We were just two poor souls

and our clothes had holes

We were in our teens

an’ we wore bell bottom jeans.

In his Dad’s cache we stayed

and our living we made.

All summer we stayed alone

like we were nobodies’ own.

When we played guitar an’ fiddle

Henry used to sing in the middle.

At Crow Point we hunt with gun an’ knife

and we always enjoyed life.

William is like my older brother

’cause my mother needed another.