Maple Syrup Sapping
By Carl J. Christensen

When you're feeling sort of grumpy with nothing else to do
Just visit Nature's Haven and the Maple Syrup Crew.
They're a jovial group of people who of their work make play
Thus they carry out their varied tasks throughout the livelong day.
There's the farmer and the sailor, likewise mechanic too
It takes all sorts of tradesmen to form a sapping crew.

Some may leave the fireside and hearth so warm and dear
And to the Maple Forest their pathway they will steer.
They go out in the springtime with a well-contented mind
For brisk March wind does not blow cold when sap flows down the line.
They load their equipment, spiles and buckets to name a few,
They now will start tapping, the kids are all askew.

First comes the tapper with the drill upon his back
Drilling holes into the tree with speed there is no lack.
Oh what a joyous moment when the sap begins to run.
Hey there kids get buckets and hang them on the spile.
You're wasting time there Willie with pranks - that's not worthwhile.

Now there is some who might prefer the modern tubing style
I will admit it's easier and better by a mile.
I know because we've tried it, tho' it takes some planning too.
You should draw a map and lay your course, it's better when you do.
So take you choice and decide, it's simply up to you.

The sap then be gathered by a crew with lots of vim
And the storage tanks will soon be filled right to the very brim.
Next we start boiling with every prudent care.
We skim and test and siphon, the scent of sweetness fill the air
A most delicious sweetness on which all love to scan.
The syrup then is filtered and put within a labeled can.

Now all of you who have heard this, remember it is true
And if you doubt one single word just ask the sapping crew.
'Twas in the syrup shanty this poem was discussed with glee.
And here is the end of the poem, it was composed by  me
Nature's Haven Carl Christensen, age eighty-three.

I remember this poem being composed in the Sugar House when my Grandfather owned the sugar bush. I was about 28 years old so this was composed in 1972. Now I own and run the sugar bush my Grandfather wrote this poem about. Many people contributed to the writing of this poem as we worked away that year and it refers to people I remember working with, the sailor, the farmer, the mechanic and Willie. I haven't seen this poem in years, I thought it was lost and now I want to share it with you. Thank you, Fred Bates