The Unspoken Code (The Ballad of Greg Bailey)

In the far, far north with those long cold nights, eerie dancing lights, and with ground that would freeze you through. Believe it or not there was a time when a single man threatened to thaw it through.

As a young boy, enraptured was he, by his father’s stories a-sea and inside that want for adventure only grew. A life at sea is a hard one indeed, and one that not many get through. So Manny said to his son “promise to me, don’t go to sea.” That was the oath he wanted there spoken. Now obediently young Greg took heed and instead of sailing he flew.

That young boy grew up, and flew around, and took in the sights indeed. He learned a lot and then trekked north, as so many explorers do. Now grown,

Greg was a man, a good one indeed, and a man with an unspoken code. He would work you see, not for money nor greed, but for something inside that drove. His work sent him far and brought him near and whoever he met on the way, they always left a little better off than they were before, and that was Greg’s unspoken code.

In the far, far, north with those long cold nights, eerie dancing lights, and with ground that would freeze you through. It is said that those with any weakness exposed will be lost or be froze; the arctic must take its due. And in those unforgiving lands, Greg hit his stride, found a home, and made a friend or two.

He could pick you up by your own bootstraps, and send you on your way. And in doing that — it was a gift you see — you could do it yourself the next day.

It was out there that he found he was among a rare breed, among those who in the north could prosper. What sets them apart is not skill nor art, for even the skilled may founder. It is an internal strength, a proclivity for luck, and a belief in the goodness of people. A fire inside that can keep you alive, this is what made Greg prosper.

From Wager Bay to Resolute they say, there is a constant need for skills, labour, or kindness. And Greg followed through, as a pilot he was true, flying wherever the need was greatest. He bombed the blazes, and surveyed the land, and all the while along the way, a bit of his fire he left behind him. That fire then grew, and those that knew would use it to keep warm.

In the far, far north with those long cold nights, eerie dancing lights, and with ground that would freeze you through. That place was wild and could be unkind especially to those that flew. And so the cold winds howled and the snow packed hard; the tundra was never meant to be warm. The winds conspired and sent Greg packing back, wishing his arm were like new.

So, Greg came back and lit up the night with thousands of lights. Giving up just wouldn’t do. And in each of those lights, countless and bright, a bit of his flame he put there too — In the end he shared it all for me and for you.

Now, in those long cold nights, fan your lights to make them bright, and remember that unspoken code. Be good to each other, for Greg his friends were brothers, and now he entrusts his flame with you.

-- Alexander Bailey