Narrative poem Polly Hutchison, a Scotland-born lass, Was very much loved by all the town.

Her family God-fearing, hard-wor ing, and ind, !heir name respected all around. When she turned eighteen, Polly started a "ob, Grossart #rapers was the name of the place, $ut another wor ed there, named %ohn Wilson, Who was tall and thin with a handsome face. !hey fell in love, and were soon engaged, $ut her family felt a bit of fear, &et they did not stop the wedding plans, 's his whole character was not yet clear. (or a time, all was well with Polly and %ohn, )t would seem they had marital bliss. Soon a bairn was e*pected and they had their first son, Not a thing, it would seem, was amiss. !he son was a "oy, was his father+s great treasure, $ut the family could not remain happy for long. %ohn was caught in a scandal of falsehood and theft, 'nd did not have the courage to right his wrong. His name was tarnished, he could not bear this fact, So he decided to run from his mess. -eaving his son, and wee wifie with child, He fled from his worry and stress. ' tearful good-bye was bade to his loves, 'nd the promise of a swift return, $ut the love that seemed to coat his words, Had it, in reality, ceased to burn.

%ohn Wilson sailed to /anada in %uly, 0102. Starting anew, he put himself up for hire, )n the booming young prairie city, Sas atoon, !hat 34ight-&ear-5ld Wonder of the $ritish 4mpire.6 He went to wor on bridge construction, 'nd found an affordable place to stay, He sent Polly all the funds he could spare, 'nd wrote loving letters every Sunday. $ac in the homeland, eight months with child, Polly was still cheerful and brave. !hough she wor ed hard and worried and felt alone, Her good spirits still didn+t cave. Polly gave birth to a baby girl, Helen, 'nd nearly died giving birth. She hoped that his daughter would bring %ohn home, $ut her hope had little worth. )n /anada, the winter was harsh, 'nd %ohn was loo ing for wor by spring. He had a "ob in the Sas atoon par s for a while, $ut the living costs started to sting. %ohn moved to Prince 'lbert in fall, 0107, Where he gave growing tomatoes a try, $ut hail came down and the plants were destroyed, 'nd all he could to was sha e a fist at the s y. $y this time, already, his letters had slowed, He had not written home for a while. Polly was feeling so lost and uncertain, 'nd her heart grew heavy as her worries piled. #escriptive Paragraph

Shink! Shink! Shink! We+re putting all of our strength behind our pic s, but even they cannot force the fro8en ground to yield much in the dead of a Sas atchewan winter. !hey say that that Wilson man confessed to burying the body here, in the culvert. ) was e*cited. !hat+s why ) came. !o 3play a part in uncovering a great crime6. )t sounded 9uite nice coming from the mouths of the police who came loo ing for locals to help dig. Now )+m not so sure. ) step bac with my pic and rest while my neighbour clears out the loose dirt. !he scene before me is depressing. Winter has stripped the land of its colour and life. )t is a white, untouched wasteland all around, e*cept where we dig. Here in the ditch surrounding the culvert, there are "agged edges cut by hurried shovels and clumps of ice and snow and earth all mi*ed together. !he men are steaming as they dig, the e*ercise warming them even in this thirty below weather, and a cloud of vapour is lingering around them as they toil at this morbid tas . !here had been a lot of snow to get through, a hard, solid drift had formed. !hat had been the easy part, though. We are into the dirt now, chiseling away at the concrete-hard, fro8en soil. What we have managed to pull loose is cast aside and has wor ed into the snow and into us, ma ing everything and everyone loo filthy. Shink! Shink! Shink! ) wield my pic again, chipping away bits of earth, little by little and ) begin to consider the reality of what ) am doing. ) am digging for the corpse of a murdered woman. With every stro e, a thrill of fear rac s my nerves, my imagination runs wild and ) thin that every stro e will be the one that sin s into her. )cy flec s of earth are thic in the air as we wor . ) clamp my mouth shut, terrified that the remains of the corpse will fly through the air as so much dirt is. Shink! Shink! Shink! ) am sure we are close to it, by the way my heart it pounding. ) don+t want to be the one to find it, ) don+t even want to eep digging for it, but ) am compelled, through the terror ) feel, to eep chipping. ) persist because ) cannot stop, not because ) will not. Shink! Shink! Shink! !here is a roc amid the soil that we+ve loosened. ) am happy for the respite, not from the wor , but from the fearful pounding of my own heart. Perhaps, if ) tarry, ) will not be the one to uncover the body. ) reach down to throw it out, but it is stuc . ) brush some dirt away to see how big it is, and ) see the laces.