When I got to mission school
my worries about my mother
and how was she doing without me
had to wait when
the priest told me
I had a bigger worry than that.
When I died, he said,
they would never let me into heaven
when they heard my name.
With a name like mine, Barney,
not any kind of Bible name at all,
I couldn’t float in
past the eyes of God.
He’d turn me away for certain
with a name like mine, Barney,
and send me back to mission school.
And so they named me after this big dog
who carried whiskey
in a little barrel around his neck
and saved people’s lives
by bringing them a drink.
Well, I’d heard about that
and even saw it with my own eyes
in a bar in the West End.
Thanks, niijii, you saved my life,
a man told my uncle,
I was sure dying for a drink.
So I supposed it must be all right
and tried to feel the honor
of my namesake.
But it didn’t stick
and I reverted to my pagan ways.
See, when I got home
and my mother said hello Barney
I was so happy
I forgot all about heaven.