I first saw this lake back in ‘17
I hauled freight in the winter over land
And I remember the first white man
I will not be hat in hand

And I learned my ABC
In English, French and Cree
There are things I still don’t understand
And even though I do not own this land
I will not be hat in hand

For I see those poplars growing way up to the sky
And I hope I’m underneath them when I die
We are old friends, this lake and I

And I remember in ‘17
What it was like before
Before the cabins blocked off the shore
The kids would run down to the sand
I will not be hat in hand

Chorus

And just like old friends
We sit and talk together
And just like old friends
We’ve seen the years go by

I still love to see those poplars growing
And I hope I’m underneath them when I die

We are old friends, this lake and I
Yes, we are old friends, this lake and I

I first saw this lake back in ‘17...

Copywrite Connie Kaldor, Coyote Entertainement Quebec Canada