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THE TRAPPER
The wind was blowing cold and bleak
along the mountain rim
the snow was hip deep to the man
as life's chances grew more slim
the blizzard blew from off the plain
in blasts of frigid air
and he wandered aimlessly in a daze
with a blank and vacant stare
His first winter in the north woods
and he didn't know it's ways
if blizzards come and you're not prepared
well, the trapper always pays
He had no horse on which to ride
it had frozen back last week
his partner too, was dead and gone
was dead and could not speak
They had gone to check the beaver tracks
down where the river lies
for the fur that they would catch
they'd trade for more supplies
And Shendoah, great Indian chief
would welcolm him with pride
to his tee pee old and warm
and to the campfire bright inside
and with a friendship warm and true
where naught would be denied
and on the morrow, White Dove, sweet Indian maid
he'd make his gentle native bride
and he'd partake with food and games
for friendships would be born
and he'd learn to dance the native way
on tomorrow morn
But here he was caught in the storm
feet frozen in his boots
his body had no feeling now
tho wrapped in it's furry suit
no food he'd had for many days
no gun, lost too, to shoot his prey
Just weary trudging all day long
and now he'd lost his way
Now it was night, the moon was high
and the wind blew with ghostly screamss
as he sank back into the snow
and dreamed his endless dreams
Long ago he had come here to this place
t'was in the early Spring
when flowers were booming in the glen
oh what a lovely thing
he'd built his cabin snug and warm
bought soft furry rugs and things
hung his rifle on the wall
and streightened out all his furnishings
He'd sat his traps out row by row
by that old Missouri River
and hoped God heard his prayer for luck
and hoped He'd soon deliver
He bought supplies, he'd stocked up well
then he sat down by the fire
and dreamed of White Dove, sweet Indian maid
and hoped her hand to soon acquire
now as the wind blew around him
and the snow was getting higher
rhe was feeling calm and oh so warm
for soon, his soul God would require
But oe'r the hill came Shendoah
and many riders with him
and thent hey saw the frozen hand
protruding from the snowy den
In soft warm furs he lay a sleeping
as small hands smoothed his fevered brow
and in restless dreams, he startled, wide awake
why was he there
where was he now
But gentle hands they touched his forehead
and the broth she brought was sweet and warm
and White Dove, dearest angel
smiled down at him
and he blessed the day that he was born
for nestled in the furry covers
small arms held him tight
and as she sang him songs of love and praise
it seemed again tht life was right
Oh Shendoah, I love you're daughter
and I'll be taking her away
we'll be going to my cabin
there to tarry and to stay
I have brought you many beavers
many horses stand outside
So I'll take her hand, I'd die for her
my dark eyed infian bride
Many years have come and gone now
and children play outide the cabin door
and he smiles as he rides a new horse
to check the traps down by the shore
Oh pleasent homestead in the mountains
White Dove and family there
what happiness that small home brings him
sometimes almost more than he can bear
And Shendoah, old Indian chief, comes often now
to bounce small children on his knee
bringing trinkets, small bows and arrows
for a bright eyed baby gir and sturdy grandsons three
Sunshine filters through the tree tops
birds sing and flowers bloom galore
as he sits tired and contented
outside his cabin door
