THE MUD RUN DISASTER
Tune- "Mary's Dream." By M. A. C.
Now, comrades, one and all, give ear
In silence to my sad refrain,
And pray that while we linger here
We ne'er may hear its like again;
That ne'er again on such a scene
Shall rise the bright October sun,
As that on which the daylight dawned
That fatal morning at Mud Run.
October tenth, in eighty-eight,
To honor Father Mathew's day,
Came temperance men in numbers great.
With wives and children blithe and gay,
With music sweet that fills the air,
And banners flashing in the sun,
You ne'er may see a nobler host
Than met that day at Hazelton.
In recreation soon is spent
The long and happy Autumn day,
And then at eve, each-well content-
Turns to pursue his homeward way.
The trains approach, and soon are filled.
And friends have bade their last adieu,
Then moving from the busy town,
Are soon in distance out of view.
They rush along the mountain side,
Through tunnels deep, o'er bridges high,
'Mid rocky dells, through valleys wide,
And then along the dark Lehigh.
But soon they reach the brook "Mud Run,"
Where they for "time " wait minutes ten,
The last ten minutes' time on earth
For fifty women, boys and men.
While one thus waits, another train
Comes whirling 'round the curve below.
And crushing through two great long cars,
Turns all the mirth and joy to woe.
Oh! where's the man, and where the pen
Can trace the horror, grief and pain,
That centered in that awful wreck,
Pray God the like hap's not again.
Amid the hiss of scalding steam,
And cries for aid that there ascend,
Survivors quick the task essayed
Of rescuing each helpless friend.
And all throughout that dreadful night
They labored manfully, nor ceased
Until the morning's dawning light
Saw dead and wounded all released.
The rigid forms of fifty-five
At early morn I looked upon,
Awaiting Carbon's coroner
Upon the siding at Mud Run.
But why should I seek more to tell,
When most of you about me here,
The sad, sad story know so well,
And on some grave have dropped a tear.
The list of names is very long,
Too many far for me to tell
Within the limits of my song,
And yet, I know, you'd like them well.
Then I will mention just a few
Of fam'ly names I have by me,
Some of them lost one, some two,
While many lost as high as three.
There's Andrew, Atkinson and Flynn,
With Stevens, Coleman, Connor, Noon,
And Curran, Cannon, Featherstone,
Kilcullen, Conaboy and Rhone;
With Durkin, Duhigg. Dolan, Hart,
And Doran. Early, McKeehan,
And Farry, Gerton, Gallagher,
Farrell, Gibbons and Callahan.
There's Goelitz, Horrice, Jackson, Moore,
And Kelly, Keeley, Tool, Aliearn,
With Loftus, Lynett, Mehan, Welsh,
Mulligan, Moffat and Mulhearn.
McAndrews, Whalen and Maxwell,
And Malia, Cusick, Mullin, Klein,
Powell, Kennedy and Tyrell,
McNichols, Quinlan and O'Brien.
There's Ruddy, Reilly, Stephens, too,
Brehony, Barrett, Flaherty,
Ruane, Rogan, and Pat. Smith,
Whose smiling face no more we'll see;
And Johnny Gibson, young and brave,
With Ratchford, Keating and Moran,
All rest within the silent grave,
So ends the story of Mud Run.