From Benton up to Alberta, the whisky road it was,
T’was the perfect trail for them that flaunt the laws.
Eighteen Sixty-Nine, Fort Hamilton they built,
A pint of rotten whisky will cost you a pelt.
Blackfoot, Blood or Piegan, they come on in to trade,
Many with their lives or souls, for the fire water paid.
The tribes were goin’ hungry, traded all that they had,
And when the Small Pox hit, ya’ never saw so bad.
Traders from Fort Benton, poison up the trail,
Marshal Beidler tried to put them all in jail.
They’re wily and they’re mean, and can the law evade,
Hidin’ in a coulee, they’ll never be betrayed.
The Northwest is a far country, run by HBC.
‘til the Commonwealth, it was wild, and it was free.
In the Cypress Hills the evil deed was done,
The wolfers and the traders, killin’ everyone.
Assiniboine death wail is heard in Ottawa,
Gotta’ tame the country, gotta’ bring the law.
In Seventy-Four the Mounties ride in to the land,
Makin’ peace with each and every tribal band.
Macleod finds the Whoop-Up Fort, quickly drives them out,
Alberta will be peaceful, of that there is no doubt.
The trail it will remain, as the country’s fillin’ up,
As merchants like the Powers, prices they markup.
Bullwhackers and the railroad will follow that old trail,
Bootleggers find it useful fer stayin’ outta jail.
Now the trail is gone, the Interstate runs through,
Cruisin’ down the lanes, if only that they knew.
LDT July 24, ‘21
Established by illegal whiskey traders in 1869, the Whoop-Up Trail ran from Fort Benton, Montana to what would become Lethbridge, Alberta. After Mounties shut down the illicit liquor trade, it became a freight route for Bull Trains. Eventually, the railroad from Great Falls would displace Fort Benton as the starting point of the trail. During Prohibition, the trail relived its illegal alcohol past as Canadian booze flowed down it to thirsty Americans. Interstate 15 now carries the traffic North to Canada along the old Whoop-Up Trail.
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Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies 
After the one about small pox the other day, I wondered if it made it all the way to Montana. Today you answered that. Funny, even though I hail from Fort Benton, I never knew about the illicit bootlegging. I had heard of the Whoop-up Trail, but nothing stuck in my brain about it. Now I need to go check it out further.
Your poems are inspiring! Thanks for taking the time to write them.
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Thanks, it’s kind of like they write themselves though.
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