Diesel Shaver - Remember the Ancaster Spirit

Remember the Ancaster Spirit,

Well before the pool was built onto the schools arm,

when the roads gravel rambled off to the local dump or on further to the site of
Copetown motorbike races, a forgotten fellow walked the country miles.

He slept in the fields of our fathers work, awoke with the dancing sun, waited for our
lovers. He wandered the halls of our homes, swung the bats at the diamond, saw the fruit trees bloom over and over. Knew the last man hanged in Canada was delivered to his noose in Ancaster. That ghost waited for the day the last rooms of the old Catholic school would fall off the edge, so cracked and hanging. He sat at the grain mills river and knew the way of bakers and farmers. Without a word he saw many places change hands and names.

The Hermitage ruins has his Christian name scratched into its old blocks, the nearby spring washed his hands. That Ancaster spirit still marks out the older places, the radial lines,
the drug store (dated by its tube tester) and the children's faces now grown and
gone.

Without prejudice he watches the next generations, forever. The spirit
of Ancaster.

Love - Deisel Shaver.