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RIVER SONGS
Now, stranger, I want to ask you, flat,
If a man with his head-piece right, Would 'a' piled eight folks in that skiff's inside Fer a half-mile pull through that mill-race tide An' think to land safe at the end o' the ride?
Well, Jake Dale did, that night.
When he shoved her off from the gumbo p'int
She reeled like a sawyer snag, Then the current caught her along the beam An' she whirled around an' shot down stream With the foam from her bow like a cloud o' steam,
As fast as a red-tail stag.
Good Lord, the fright in them children's cries!
It curdled a feller's blood, Them river men ain't a prayerful race, But that night more'n one sort o' hid his face An' sent up a plea to the Throne o' Grace
To guide them through the flood.
An' then that gorge sent up a roar
That shook the solid ground; The sort that splits yer ears in two When a side-wheel packet drops a flue An' blows six b'ilers amongst her crew,
An' cooks them that ain't drowned.
She was breakin' loose like an avalanche,
Slipped free on a mountain side. Jake Dale turned 'round an' give one look An' read the truth like a printed book, Then bent to his oars till the keel-post shook,
An' pulled fer the "George's" side.
He jammed her bow through the buckin' tide
Till the painter floated free; With blinded eyes an' drippin' skin He fought fer the race he had set to win Like a soldier fights, till the ice rolled in
An' ground against her lee. |
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