FLIN FLON
The first thing you notice long before you get to town
Is the very tall smoke stack, you see it and you frown,
For it always seems to be breathing fume into the air,
But it is high above the homes, clustered here and there.

The streets bend and twist so, they almost loop the loop,
Bed rock juts out so we wind around, it too hard to scoop
Out and straighten a road so that’s why there’s many a bend,
And so many short sharp steep hills that all of a sudden end.

The water pipes and sewers run through troughs above ground,
Houses perched on bedrock very few basements to be found,
Lakes are scattered through town that you have to drive around,
The shortest distance is not a straight line here, I’ll be bound.

Yet amidst the shining bedrock, there are areas of green
And cute little gardens in summer months can be seen,
There is no where very far in Flin Flon, small pleasant town,
But those steep hills in the ice and snow sure make you frown.

So try to come in summer where the grass in bright green,
And the lakes are warm and sparkling and many birds seen,
Stay away in winter when the snow falls and the winds blow,
I’m sure there are many other places that you could find to go.

M Ann Margetson November 8, 2001