MISTER WHAT’S-HIS-NAME OF SEBOOMOOK

Have you ever heard Seboomook with her April

dander up,

With the amber rushing river gorged to high-

est drivin’ pitch?

Have you heard her boom and bellow—rocky

lips a-froth with yellow—

When she spews and spumes the torrents—

oh, the wild and wicked witch?

She has menace in her breath,

And she roars the chant of death,

For the victim that she slavers never sees

the sun again.

And she clutches at the river,

With entreaty that it give her

The morsels for her longing, which are men—

men—men!

Here’s a tale to suit the cynic—’tis a satire from

the woods,

And concerns a certain hero who was hunt-

ing after Fame;

’Tis the grim and truthful story of a mighty

reach for glory,

But, alas, he didn’t get it, for we’ve clean

forgot his name!

He was one of Murphy’s crew,

And he swore that he’d go through

Where no other West Branch driver ever saved

the shirt he wore:

For he vowed he’d shoot the gorge

And allowed that he could dodge

The Death that knelt a-clutching at the prey

the waters bore.

When they said he couldn’t do it, why, he

laughed the crowd to scorn,

—Poled across the dimpling shallows with

a fierce and hoarse good-by

—He was Murphy’s top-notch driver, half a bird

and one-half diver,

But the best who brave Seboomook only

sound the depths to die.

And they found him miles below;

But his mother would not know

The mangled mass Seboomook belched from out

her vap’rous throat.

The first man coming down

Brought the story out to town,

Referring to the hero as a “dretful reckless

goat.”

Then he told the brisk reporters all the grim and

grisly tale,

And the deed was dressed in language in a

way to bring some fame.

But alas for human glory, the galoot who brought

the story,

Remembered all the details, but forgot the

fellow’s name.

Have you ever heard Seboomook roaring at you

in the night,

With her champing jaws a-frothing in a word-

less howl of hate?

’Tis a fierce vociferation to compel our admira-

tion,

For the chap who struck that rugged blow,

cross-countered thus by Fate.

When he lunged his pole at Death,

When the river sucked his breath,

Seboomook gravely listened when he screamed

his humble name;

For the honor of a foe

She would have the people know,

But she vainly dins her message in the deafened

ear of Fame.