Milk River

Barefoot boy sittin’ on the bank,

Starin’ at a bobber waitin’ fer a yank.

Beaver makes a splash, slaps his tail,

Gone outta’ sight, leavin’ no trail.

Rope swing hangin’ from a branch,

Only the bravest take that chance.

Bare Butt Beach, no girls allowed,

 First swim across makes you proud.

White-tail deer hidden in the brush,

Take yer time, there ain’t no rush.

In the Summer the cotton flies,

Gets in yer mouth and yer eyes.

Winter freeze, break out the skates,

Beer can hockey, no goal nor gates.

Winter ends, comes the thaw,

Ice breaks up, oh such awe!

Place a stake as water’s rise,

Seek higher ground if yer wise.

Skippin’ school to fight the flood,

Settin’ sandbags in the mud.

A river kid is like a wild rose,

All scratched up, bloody nose.

Don’t get much better, boy and a dog,

Milky old river, sittin’ on a log.

LDT April 22, ’21

The Milk is the little river that could. It steals much of its water from the Saint Mary’s Syphon. It uses the valley that the Missouri ran through before the last ice age. Fort Peck Lake filters the water of the “Big Muddy”, but the Milk soon befouls it.

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