We used to live in Flin Flon with it’s very tall stack,
With winds changing shifts blowing there and back,
With the ups and downs of many a road and street,
And on every freezing corner good friends to meet.
For a fanciful moment, we thought we would return,
Then thoughts of three weeks summer when the sun did burn,
Hardly any spring at all maybe that was three weeks long too,
The same time in fall the rest was winter most of the year through.
For when you live almost level with laitude fifty five,
You have to have northern seasoned blood long to survive,
The people are so great all so friendly loving and warm,
It’s the only way all overcome each long winter storm.
Yes, we would love to return to Flin Flon to meet all we know
And pray that it was fanciful all those icy winds that did blow,
A figment of a vivid imagination those never ending winter days,
For other than all that winter Flin Flon had much to praise.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson March 2, 2003