OUR CAMPS HERO.
Composed by Hovey Cook.
Yer may talk about yer heroes,
An' tell of the things they've done;
But, for a hero, we'd the beauty,
Compare with her! who? none.
She war jest the pride of our camp-
Bill Higgins' daughter, she.
As good 'er gal as ever war-
As good as they'll ever be.
Not to tall an' not to thin.
But jest the proper kind;
Full of life as er kitten -
Her like war hard ter find.
She'd no mother, for her mother died
Long for she stuck this place.
Bill, he jest did love his daughter,
Said she had her mother's face.
She war jest as brave as er lion-
Braver than some men I know;
Jest why an' how an' so, sir,
I'm jest a-goin' to show:
It war back in 'sixty-four or five,
Jest in the spring of year,
When one mornin' a nor'wester' storm
Like Satan did appear.
Well, yer lest hear me tell it,
It rained near all Thursday,
But test toward the evenin',
It kinder cleared away;
Yer've seen thur falls below, sir,
Well, yer should have seen 'em then,
For a sight er like 'em
Yer'ed never see agin.
Why, they roared and boiled an' sizzled,
I ne'er saw thur like afore,
Tliur waters jest mad like,
Tore and beat thur shore.
An' as they bit the shore, sir,
An' then rolled back agin,
They seemed to, in their roarings, say,
I'd like to take yer in.
A Little kid of three or four
War playin' there about.
When all a sudden I heard
One of the boys shout.
The kid had fallen in, sir,
Inter that place of death;
His screams-well, I'm a strong one,
But it took away my breath.
Before any one could stop her.
In went Nell Higgins, clothes an' all;
Thin child in that mad bell hole
Jest then went over thur fall;
But, Nell, she never turned back,
But over thur fall to.
Thur people war jest mad like,
They didn't know what ter do.
Up she came an' she had thur kid,
An' cried, "Boys, throw a rope.
Jack Alyer did-she missed it,
An' then we gave up hope;
For if she war made of iron,
She couldn't fight that tide,
An' no one could ever reach her,
No matter how hard yer tried.
She cried out, boys, I'm goin',
An' then she sank from view;
Thur kid he war clasped in her arms,
An' so 'course he sank, too,
An' our little Nell, God bless her,
We never saw her more,
Until thur, child, an' she next day
War washed upon thur shore.
She war a hero, yes she war,
An' all thur boys jest did love her,
But Nell's gone, yes, gone for keeps,
Over on yonder hill she sleeps.
Alone, but peaceful, yer can jest bet so.
For good war all poor Nell did know.
And if there's a heaven, as I think there are,
God let her make her home up there.