by Allen Ginnett
Fur Rondy, Fur Rondy,
Why must I go?
Is it to show…
This “blissful” life we live in the snow?
Is it the determination of human beings
To be right at home in the cold?
The rickety carnival rides light up like a beacon,
People, downtown, in the cold for no reason.
Everyone knows that this is the season,
The time to come face to face with the elitist. Jesus.
Save these dogs from an inhumane ritual…
A tradition who’s mission is habitual,
No one seems to have an issue, though.
Why must I pretend to like you?
The answer is I’m Alaskan,
just like you.