The Vision of the Saginaw River

Mrs. Till might have been a lady, but it was not thought so,
Frank Ottman was a grocery man. All lived around 23rd St. Bridge
Mr. Meeks was a Black Smith a real good man.

Last night I saw a vision
Which shook my limbs with fright
And changed my future ways on Earth
And set my pathway straight

I had been out a little late
The truth I'll fairly own
The howling storm around me blew
When on My wayward home.

When seated by the dim hearth light
Before I did retire,
It was then I slept and viewed the scene.
Which I did well admire.

I saw the Saginaw river rise,
Like a might tidal wave
And the waking dead to light came forth,
From a cold untimely grave.

All looked like desolation
With the water rushing in
Fran Ottman immersed in sorrow
Sang a howling methost hymm.

Beet Meeks he used good Judgement
For he rushed out for the hill
And ordered up a flowing bowl
For the anvil living still.

And as I viewed the angry storm
A man with power and skill
Was struggling with the water
and carrying Mrs. Till.

Still louder blew the tempest
Like a wild tornado tore,
He and his female freight were lost
For they could not find the shore

Around the streets was all a sea
It looked like buffalo's locks,
And Jimmy Williams were floating round,
On bones saloon Ice box.

I saw the spirit of the stream
Far East and West he spread
That marked the spot of many a grave
Of the read men warriors dead

And he pointed to the naket banks
Where the lordly pine had grew
And then the vision fled from me
In his ancient birch canoe.