He’ll roam around this oil man’s place
And ply the rod and gun,
And mumble to himself this phrase,
“I do not choose to run.”
One hundred guards around his shack
Are stationed night and day,
To keep Wisconsin badgers back
And keep “moonshine” at bay.
Each of these guards is fully armed,
Each with a loaded gun,
Fearing that Calvin might be harmed,
For he didn’t choose to run.
He’ll feel the bold mosquito’s bite,
He’ll hear the screeching owl,
And in the darkened hours of night,
He’ll hear the fierce wolf’s howl.
Within the leafy forest shade,
Where spider’s webs are spun,
He’ll ponder o’er those words he said,
“I do not choose to run.”
But of all beasts that roam the wood,
The Hodag “takes the cake”,
For when he seeks his daily food,
He makes the pine trees shake.
He is a beast of monstrous size,
He weighs a half a ton.
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’Tis plainly seen in his fierce eyes,
He does not choose to run.
He mutters such a fearful roar,
He fairly shakes the ground.
Upon the Lake Superior shore,
These animals abound.
If you should meet one near the shore,
You’ll badly need a gun.
You’ll know by his tremendous roar,
He does not choose to run.
When Calvin roams the northern wood,
On Lake Superior’s shore,
Should meet a Hodag seeking food
And hear his awful roar.
He’ll throw away his fishing rod,
His reel and fancy gun
And whisper to himself, “My God,
I think I choose to run.”
THE OLDE SETTEE
Shan. T. Boy
Preserve that old settee, unpainted and worn,
It belonged to my father before I was born.
It sits on the front lawn beneath a pine tree,
’Tis an emblem of comfort, that time-worn
settee.
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