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RIVER SONGS |
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THE ENGINEER OF THE "GOLDEN HIND"
LIM JACK" BRITT, of the packet "Golden Hind,"
Runnin' the Missouri 'fore the railroads spoiled the trade, Engineer, and a good one of his kind,
Claimed to have no feelin's; 'twas the only brag he made.
Come what might, he didn't give a hang;
Watch a Levee shootin' scrape and never turn a hair, Stand and chew while some other boat went bang!
And blew her decks and b'ilers half a mile up in the air.
News of death didn't bother him,
Never showed no feelin's by word or sigh or frown. Gabr'el's Trump wouldn't worried Slim,
He'd just hump his shoulders and screw a steam-valve down.
Well, one day, out from Omaha,
Way late in November and makin' our last run, Blizzard come, quick and thick and raw,
Slim was at the engines when the storm begun.
Boat chuck full, passengers and freight,
Had to get 'em somewhere 'fore the freeze-up brought us to, So we run, crowdin' on the gait
And hopin' that a blind snag wouldn't rip our bottom through.
All at once a woman screamed aloud —
"Men, the boat's on fire! For God's sake, run ashore!" Then, of course, panic in the crowd,
Shrieks and groans and curses and the fire's growin' roar.
Down below, 'round the fires there
Crew all took the fever, run up front and prayed — All but Slim. He didn't seem to care;
Didn't have no feelin's and so he stayed. |
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