“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.