Mr. McDonald, the McKay
neighbour was the one who wrote this piece. John F Sinclair recited it
to his children hundreds of times, it was one of their off to bed
readings, they never seemed to tire to sit and listen to this story.
According to Aunt Rachel McKay (Donald's granddaughter), this is based
on a true story. She remembers that one of the twins died in his late
teens while working on farms out west. Many of the poorer pioneer farm
youth went to the prairies to earn precious cash but got very homesick.
His picture was on the wall but his name was seldom mentioned.
This wonderful poem was in the possession of Alan Sinclair. He read it
in a hilarious manner with his Fad drawl and baritone voice at the Fad
elders' gathering of 2009.
On New Year’s morn at 3 o’clock
While I did soundly snore
I heard a wild excited knock
Upon our kitchen door
A voice cried let me in at once
But still in bed I lay
Come let me in you stupid dunce
For I am D. McKay
What do you want I boldly cried
My money or my life
Don’t be afraid McKay replied
I only want your wife
Now quickly I unbarred the door
And let my neighbour in
Outside the wintery wind did blow
With raging dismal din
So off my wife and Donald went
Through valley and through dale
And Donald’s team now homeward bent
Traversed the ground like snails
When daylight came I started out
Toward my neighbours dwelling
My weary foot and anxious mind
My every step impelling
At last my neighbour’s house I saw
T’was then I took the notion
To hide behind the stack of straw
And view the wild commotion
The women twitted to and fro
Now here now there now yonder
And Donald tramps round in the snow
In great apparent wonder
At last a rousing cheer I heard
Preserve us from our sins
And Donald’s hat flies in the air
They tell him it is “Twin’s”
Blake and McKenzie Donald cries
I’ll share with you my joys
Two more Reformers by our side
A bouncing pair of Boys.
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