Carry me back to Castor, Alberta
There’s where the wheat and the oats and barley grow
There’s where the birds warble sweet as cattle rustle
There’s where this old pioneer’s son has longed to go.
There’s where I laboured so hard for my old father day after day in the fields of golden grain
No place on earth do I love more sincerely
Than the plains of Alberta, the place where I was born.
- By Wilf Miller