Ocean Falls Museum - Poetry

THE EXODUS OF THE RAIN PEOPLE

At the head of Cousins Inlet,

Fisher's, and Queen Charlotte Sound,

Where the rain falls fairly often,

And wild game and fish abound,

'Neath the shelter of "Old Baldy"

Where the Link Lake water stalls

At the Dam, down by the salt-chuck

Lies the town of Ocean Falls.

We're a town of friendly people

Always glad to welcome you,

And we care about each other

As few other people do.

On the eighteenth day of April,

Nineteen hundred and seventy-two,

At a meeting called by C. Z.

We were told our town was through.

Nothing would be left but rabble.

Everything would be torn down,

Nothing left to show there ever

Was a happy, friendly town.

There'd be total demolition,

Making sure the town had died,

And between then and next April

We'd be scattered far and wide.

Filled with shock and apprehension

When we heard this news from "Crown"

Anxious, fearful of the knowledge

We would have to leave our town.

In the graveyard in the Valley

Lie a few who'll never move,

With the river running past them

And Caro Marion high above.

Will we never climb these long stairs?

Never see our town again?

Never see these streets and houses

Sheathed in falling, misting rain?

We'll remember how we loved it

On a glorious sunny day.

We'll remember how we loved it

When the rain fell on the bay.

We'll remember it with longing

When we think of it again.

Yes, we love it in the sunshine

And we love it in the rain!

Now it's well into the autumn

And we walk the streets alone;

And our hearts are filled with sadness

For so many friends have gone.

There's a hundred million memories

As each boat and plane departs,

And the parting of our people

Bends our spirits, breaks our hearts.

Will some other towns resent us?

Will they think our coming robs

Their established population

Of their very precious jobs?

Will they move a "wee bit over"?

Be a kind and thoughtful host

To a lot of displaced persons

From a little town up-coast?

Sure they will, for many of them

Came from this small town of ours,

Helped contribute to its beauty,

Cut the brush and planted flowers.

When they left, they hoped that maybe

Some day they would "come again",

For they left a bit of their hearts

With the "people of the rain".

Will you welcome us and help us

Find a place to call our own?

For unless we find a haven

We can never more "go home".

Author

Agnes Fisher

1972