You say you don't know Hawco?
Well, chum, that's comin' it strong,
Unless indeed, you're a furner,
and don't to those parts belong;
For there's nair' a man from Topsail,
clear up the whole South Shore,
Who has not heard of Hawco,
the last two months or more.
Hawco, the brave and valiant -
the man from Harbour Main -
And how he strove and struggled
to save the evenin' train.
Yes, Jim is a high-line here,
as sure as e'er you're barn -
A small nip ou' that flask, sir -
I don't mind tellin' the yarn.
Do you see that blue smoke
curlin' under the birchy ridge,
Down where the brook comes purlin' -
where Woodford built the bridge?
For nigh on forty years, sir,
Jim lived in that white-washed cot,
And all he had in the world, sir,
was what by his arms he got.
'Cept the road he built to his garden,
for which he got three pound,
And a dollar or two for poll-clerk
when the members com'd around;
And that's not much, sir,
as you'll tell me when I state,
That time of the last election
he voted the ticket straight;
But I'm sailin'off my bairin's,
and if you'll 'scuse my whim,
I'll drop the wanderin' talk, sir,
and tell this tale of Jim.
Throughout the live-long summer
he fished and he tilled the ground,
And he got in his wood for the winter
when fall time com'd around.
To the brow of the hill where he pitched it,
across the railway track,
He cut his wood o'er yonder,
then lugged it on his back;
But he never pitched that wood, sir,
till danger wasn't nigh,
Till the blue smoke of the evenin' train
had towards St John's passed by.
One evenin' in late September,
Jim came to the top of the hill,
'Twas after the usual train-time,
and all was quiet and still;
And he threw his wood right over,
not thinkin' of any harm,
When the call of Number Ten, sir,
comes howlin' 'round the Arm.
Jim stopped for a moment only,
then thought of the hundred lives
Aboard that train, and their children,
and broken-hearted wives.
Then he offs with his coat and wescot,
and ties his braces 'round,
And clears that hill like a deer, sir,
almost at a single bound;
And he worked like a very devil,
to throw that timber clear,
And never turned for a moment
to see if the train was near.
"Clear the track!" the brakesman shouted,
and then a wild effort made,
To slow the pace of the ingin',
as she snorted down the grade.
Jim made one more endeavour,
though he risked his life's last chance,
And he just had the last stick over,
when the cow-catcher fanned his pants;
Then he sprang to a place of safety,
and heaved a thank-God sigh,
And he saw the danger over,
and the train go whistling by;
But how do you think they served him,
when they to town got back?
Why they sent a man to arrest him,
for 'peding the railway track.
And early in the mornin'
he was summoned before the Judge,
And lawyers and policeman
and all their legal fudge;
And he prayed in his soul of souls, sir,
to be tried by Mister Prowse,
For the Judge, when he's out a-shooting,
he stops at Hawco's house.
But when he entered court, sir,
he bid good-bye to joy,
For there on the bench afore him
was the form of Judge Conroy.
The witnesses took the stand, sir,
they kissed the book and swore;
The lawyers tangled 'em up, sir,
and then they swore some more;
The Judge he listened quietly,
the lawyers fired away,
Till the swearin' all was over,
and then he had his say:
"They brought you here as a scoundrel,
to prove you such I'm told,
I read the matter different,
I think you're a hero bold.
"Of course, you acted unlawful,
when wood on the track you'd thrown,
But to save the lives endangered,
you bravely risked your own.
And viewin' your case all over,
in every way I can,
I must say, though you erred, sir,
you acted like a true brave man.
And through all the circlin' ages,
your name it shall go down,
With the man that fired Dina's temple,
and the man what burnt the town."
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