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?
No.
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.
Fur Rondy,
Why must I pretend to like you?
The answer is I’m Alaskan,
just like you.
