Métis

I never knew if she was Chippewa or Cree.

Perhaps it was her French side a people called Métis.

Somewhere near Red River, her forbearers did reside,

They traded and they hunted and did it all with pride.

The Company brought their fathers into the fur country,

Their mothers were the tribal gals, the kids were called Métis.

Across the plains they followed where the bison roamed,

Never had no roots, never were they homed.

Rupert’s Land-Dakota , no buffalo to roam,

Got a two-wheel cart, gonna’ call it home.

Wooden wheels a’squeakin’ fiddle drowns them out,

Singin’ in Francais, they’re headin’ west no doubt.

Head up on the Milk, the huntin’ there is good,

Be-friendin’ all the tribes in the neighborhood.

None will ask the question, Canuck or ’Merican?

Huntin’ for the robes, makin; pemmican.

They maybe cross the line, that isn’t even there,

Who can see the line or even know the where?

Even when they mark it, it’s kinda’ hard to find,

No. you’ll never stop ‘em, the Mountie he don’t mind.

Winter camp’s on Frenchman Creek, hidin’ from the chill,

Then tradin’ with the H.B.C.* upon the Cypress Hill.

They say they gave the Sioux their powder and their shot,

No Monsieur it wasn’t me, the whiskey that they got.

They lived in peace upon the land of the native sons,

Never caused no strife, never used no guns.

Then Colonel Miles from Keough, soldiers sallied forth,

You don’t belong on the Res, got to go up North.

Prove y’er blood is red, maybe you can stay,

Or maybe cross the river, Judith Gap’s O.K.

Canada don’t want ‘em, gives them worthless scrip,

The Battle of Batoche will make them rue the trip.

Back in old Montana, the life it ain’t so good,

No more huntin; buffalo, there’s wolfin’ and there’s wood.

If y’er lookin’ white you can prove up on the land,

Otherwise you’ll fit in Stone Child’s footloose band.

Forty years at Belknap, they maybe throw you out,

No, you aren’t a native, of that there is no doubt.

Somehow they remain, a people tall and proud,

They take it all in stride, never whine out loud.

It wouldn’t be Montana, if they never did come here,

So thank you to a people, give them all a cheer.

I never knew if she was Chippewa or Cree,

Perhaps it was her French side, that stole the heart of me.

LDT July 8, ‘21

*HBC-The male progenitors of the Métis mostly worked with or for the Hudson’s Bay or Northwest Fur Companies. Not all were French. Some were Scotch or English. Most settled in the Red River Valley. Many Montana Métis can trace their roots to Pembina, North Dakota. Originally thought to be in Canada, an 1823 survey placed Pembina south of the 49^th parallel. Those born south of this “Medicine Line” were Americans.

For further information on the Métis of Montana and the border, see Michel Hogue’s Metis and the Medicine Line: Creating a Border and Dividing a People.

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