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A Leisurely Morning Drive

December 3, 2009
Seneca and some of his many fangs

Seneca and some of his many fangs

Last week, while spending an evening with my friend Seneca and some people he knows, the idea of composing a distinctly Canadian rap piece was put onto the table along with a tasty storebought dessert. Needless to say, I immediately began to imagine the possibilities and got pretty excited. Whether we’re issuing random unnecessary apologies or politely disagreeing with each other’s politics, Canadians are hard like spruce. It’s about time that someone composed a hip, groovy jam to stand alongside the old fogey medley we call our national anthem. “O Canada” is all well and good for 70-year-olds, but most people are a lot younger than that.

It’s hard to know where to begin. Canada’s majestic heritage could supply a rapper with several metric decades’ worth of material. What would capture the essence of such a large and culturally fascinating land? An educational yet passionate homage to the beaver? No, that would only appeal to biologists. A systematic examination of the triumphs and tragedies of the New Democratic Party? No, too controversial. A survey of the major players of CanLit? No, too boring. Well then, how about an account of a drive down a prairie highway at dawn? Yes, that’ll do…

A LEISURELY MORNING DRIVE

Drivin’ down the highway in the land of living skies.
Gonna pull down the visor ‘cause the sun’s in my eyes.
Maximum 100, says the sign to my right,
But I set the cruise control to 95 to be polite:
I don’t wanna seem impatient or unsafe on the street.
I like to wave and smile at other drivers I meet.
It’s a two-way highway so you gotta be careful.
Ain’t no point in actin’ reckless, makin’ other drivers fearful.
Yeah, my car’s pretty sweet, it’s a ’98 Corolla,
The winter tires just got installed so I’m a pretty smooth rolla.
Even though there’s a frost warning,
It’s still a boss morning.
I bought a large hot chocolate at the Sev, so I’m well heated.
I toss my toque in the back seat, ‘cause, my friend, I don’t need it.
Can you believe this landscape?
It’s flatter than a Smitty’s pancake.

And then some stuff about degrees Celsius, the metric system, the Prime Minister, words that end in –our, Boxing Day, Thanksgiving in October, being nice, small-town values, agriculture, Randy Bachman, “I think it’s pretty neat / that there’s so much wheat,” etc., and then something like this for the fadeout:

A loon costs ten ships.
A loon costs four moose.
You can buy a polar bear with two hundred maple leaves.
Wilfrid Laurier’s generous, he’ll always buy you a hundred beavers.
Unnnh.
Great White North, G.

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