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William T. Cox's
“ T H E    H O D A G    A N D   O T H E R   T A L E S    O F   T H E   L O G G I N G   C A M P S ”
(  90th  A N N I V E R S A R Y    H Y P E R T E X T   E D I T I O N  )
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THE ROUND RIVER DRIVE
x ’Twas ’64 or ’65
We drove the great Round River Drive;
’Twas ’65 or ’64—
Yes, it was durin’ of the war,
Or it was after or before.
Those were the days in Michigan,
The good old days, when any man
Could cut and skid and log and haul,
And there was pine enough for all.
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Then all the logger had to do
Was find some timber that was new
Besides a stream—he knew it ran
To Huron or to Michigan,
That at the mouth a mill there was
To take the timber for the saws.
(In those old days the pioneer
He need not read his title clear
To mansions there or timber here.)
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Paul Bunyan, (you have heard of Paul?
He was the king pin of ’em all,
The greatest logger in the land;
He had a punch in either hand
And licked more men and drove more miles
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And got more drunk in more new styles
Than any other peavey prince
Before, or then, or ever since.)
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Paul Bunyan bossed that famous crew:
A bunch of shoutin’ bruisers, too—
Black Dan MacDonald, Tom McCann,
Dutch Jake, Red Murphy, Dirty Dan,
And other Dans from black to red,
With Curley Charley, yellow-head,
And Patsy Ward, from off the Clam—
The kind of gang to break a jam,
To clean a bar or rassle rum,
Or give a twenty to a bum.
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Paul Bunyan and his fightin’ crew,
In ’64 or ’5 or ’2,
They started out to find the pines
Without much thought of section lines.
So west by north they made their way
One hundred miles until one day
They found good timber, level land,
And roarin’ water close at hand.
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They built a bunk and cookhouse there;
They didn’t know exactly where
It was and, more, they didn’t care.
Before the spring, I give my word,
Some mighty funny things occurred.
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