“Grog
Rock?” Why certainly my lad,
Grog Rock it is right well;
An’
did yew never hear the yarn
That raftmen love to tell?
“Twas
years ago when all these hills
Groaned ‘neath their loads uv pine,
When
oak an’ hemlock growed so thick
The sun could never shine
Down
through the branches an’ they built
Ships past the island there;
Big
ships thet uster plough the seas
An’ oceans ev’rywhere.
They
felled their trees an’ built their rafts
Up yonder by the shore
An’
let the current drift ‘em down,
A ha’f mile long or more.
This
rock, yew see, stan’s furthest out
Uv any fur or near;
Waal,
here they uster tie their rafts
To hev a little cheer.
The
raftmen sat upon the rock
An’ passed their grog around,
An’
many songs were sung, they say,
An’ tales were told profound.
One
day their jug fell from the rock
An’ sunk full fifty feet,
A
sadder lot uv raftmen, lad,
Would be right hard to meet.
One
raftman, bolder than the rest,
Cried, like an angry dog:
“I’d
ruther be a lubber dead
Than go without me grog.”
An’
tossin’ hat an’ coat he dove
To seize the jug agen;
Alas!
He never more wuz seen
By any loggin’ men.
With
fear they cut loose from the rock
An’ drifted on their way.
An’
nevermore they landed here
To drink their grog, they say.
An’
stranger yet than all the rest,
Fish uster loiter here,
But
sence the grog went overboard
They never come anear.
An’
e’en today, lad, I can swear
No fish will herein stray,
An’
never will until that jug
Uv grog is moved away.
Such
is the story tol to me,
An’ I believe it well;
The
story uv “Grog Rock”, my lad,
That raftmen love to tell.
March
21, ‘06
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