Drowning of John Roberts
Dear fellow men, pray lend an ear,
A melancholy tale to hear;
One of our mortals numbered he,
Has gone to long eternity.
John Roberts, as we understand,
Was the name of this young man,
When from his house he did depart
While a gleam of hope twined round his heart.
He hired out with David Brown
To help him drive some lumber down;
Up the West Branch he then did go,
Which proved this young man's overthrow.
He ventured out to break a jam
Which had commenced on a roll dam,
And when he started for the shore,
He sank his last, to rise no more.
We searched the stream from shore to shore,
His lifeless body to secure,
Trusting in God to lead the way
Unto eternal mortal clay.
On the third day at three o'clock,
Roswell Silsby took a boat,
And with a grapple in his hand
He raised him from his bed of sand.
A messenger was sent away
These mournful tidings to convey
Unto his render parents dear,
That they should see their son no more.
And in due time a bier was made,
And on it was his body laid,
Borne to the place where he must lie,
Till Gabriel's trump should rend the sky.
Dear fellow men, we all must die,
And go to long eternity
So let us live in Christian love,
That we may reign with Christ above.