So he hooked onto the ridges, pulled them all into the mill; Then they say of real hard labor Noah finally got his fill. Thus the task was finally finished, nor was that the only gain: Naught was left in the Dakotas but a large and level plain Save in just two places only, where the logging had begun, And where all the refuse ridges were left drying in the sun. First is called the Black Hills district, there the ancient land still stands, And the pile of broken ridges is Dakota's famed Bad Lands. THE YEAR OF THE GREAT HOT WINTER This is probably a true Western story. I was punching a half breed roader down on Shoalwater Bay The year the nights came together, some called it the great dark day. We hit the deck at sunrise but the sun never rose at all, So we sat by the light of the lantern waiting the breakfast call. 'Twas an event to call forth stories of wonderful times in the Past, And I listened to marvelous stories till the Bull Cook's turn came at last. "I was just a lad," he started, "When I worked in Paul Bunyan's camps, Darkness was nothing in those days for we had volcanoes for lamps. "One year we were logging Missouri, before Bunyan came to the coast, And had just finished building the Ozarks to serve as a snubbing post. "We were working down an ice chute almost across the state, When the weather turned suddenly warmer, hotter than Satan's grate. "Twas the year of the great hot winter, hottest I ever felt, And the ice cakes turned right into steam without even stopping to melt. "Well, that was the end of our logging, but Bunyan must look around, So he left his ox behind him and came to Puget Sound. "And when he reached the water he picked himself a tree And dug it out into a boat and so put out to sea. "'Twas cooler on the water and so he sailed around Till in the Caribbean Sea he finally run aground. "For days he tried to float her, but it wasn't any use, So he went and got his Blue Ox to pull the old tub loose. "He gathered all the rigging he could from near and far, But chains much larger than your leg were stretched into a bar. "And all the gear he didn't break was melted by the heat, And there are lakes all over Texas where the Blue Ox braced his feet. "But every bit of timber was pulled loose from that boat And still the old hulk lay there, she simply wouldn't float. "Well, many years have passed since then and it's drifted o'er with sand And trees have grown upon it until it's solid land. "Now boys, that's simply history, as right as God above, And the little isle of Cuba is the place I'm speaking of." The Bull Cook finished up his tale and went about his task, But there've always been some questions I'd kinder like to ask. But he is dead and gathered to old Paul Bunyan's side, And so I'll never know for sure if that old codger lied. THE CHARMED LAND