Just a little bit west of Kapuskasing,
Reesor Crossing, that's the name.
Farmers hauled, from out of the bushland,
pulpwood for the mill-bound train.
Twenty farmers met that night,
to guard their pulp from a union strike,
unaware this night would see a reesor crossing tragedy,
the Reesor Crossing Tragedy.
"You'll never load that pile of lumber",
said the Union men, when they came.
Though they numbered about five hundred,
the twenty farmers took rifle aim.
"We've got to get our pulpwood out,
before the muskeg frost comes out".
"And may God help us all to see,
no Reesor Crossing Tragedy".
"You'll never touch this pile of lumber",
but they came, and tragically,
three men died, that february,
in the year of '63
Eight more wounded, some beat up
tires slashed on the lumber trucks.
A night of d**h, and destiny -
the Reesor Crossing Tragedy.
"You'll never touch this pile of lumber",
seven words that spelled out pain.
For the widows and their children,
and their men who died in vain.
How can anyone forget,
the bloodiest labour battle yet,
in all Canadian history?
The Reesor Crossing tragedy.
Just a little bit west of Kapuskasing,
they erected a sculpture beside the tracks,
of the bushman and his family,
who live their lives behind the axe.
It reminds us in the North,
not to bring out tempers forth,
that there may never elsewhere be
no Reesor Crossing Tragedy.