When we were kids in the Upper Peninsula
Detroit was two full days away
We never set foot in Lower Michigan
The furthest I’d been was Green Bay
The U.P. is largely a wilderness
Dense forests cover much of the land
Pine and spruce, maple, cedar and oak
The lakes make it even more grand
“Yooper”, of course, comes from “U.P.”
Our name for Downstaters was Trolls
Trolls are folks who live under the bridge
We’re sad for those poor deprived souls
Our towns range from small to smaller
My hometown has nine thousand people
It’s fourth in size in the whole U.P.
One stoplight, eight bars, a church steeple
Menominee natives are friendly
They spend lots of time on the Bay
There’s a passion for boating and sailing
Or watching our Packer team play
My family lived out in the country
Surrounded by pine trees and birch
The river flowed next to our shoreline
We fished there for bullheads and perch
Huge pine snakes lived under our chimney
The pheasants pecked seeds on our lawn
Our dogs lost their battles with porcupines
At dusk we might see a young fawn
U.P. summers were idyllic
Clear air, a mild seventy degrees
We swam for hours in the river
Then turned into lumberjacks chopping trees
Autumn was ablaze with colors
The maples, a glorious red
The water was too chilly for swimming
We took to our rowboat instead
Winters would drop below zero
With three or four feet of white snow
Icicles stretched from the eaves to the ground
The Northern Lights gave off a glow
In May thick hordes of mosquitos appeared
They hovered about in the air
We covered ourselves with repellent
But those bloodthirsty pests didn’t care
I learned to camp as a twelve-year-old
We’d bike up to Mason Park
Towing our gear in a wagon
Telling ghost stories well into dark
Late autumn, my mother cooked venison
My dad brought home a whitefish
Now and then we might have a pasty
Boiled tongue was a strange U.P. dish
High school sports were our passion
The Menominee Maroons were our team
We cheered them on through thick and thin
To beat Marinette was our dream
The year of my sixteenth birthday
I went to Worth’s camp to hunt deer
We took up our posts at six a.m.
The fathers played cards and drank beer
As teens we borrowed the family car
At nighttime we cruised round the loop
We’d drag race with guys at the stoplight
Then meet at the drive-in with our group
A few of our local politicians
Were convinced the U.P. should secede
And form its own state called Superior
More attuned to a Finn or a Swede
I was lucky to grow up as a Yooper
Some say that we lacked urban smarts
But Yoopers are solid and hardy
They’re known for the size of their hearts
