The Tale of the Man of Goat Island

Guests of Niagara Falls A narrative stays untold, Of which I can recall Since the time I was 5 years old. Between two cataracts A strip of earth does lie, A terrain of little impact Found beneath the New York sky. Upon this stretch of soil A gentleman did live, Fed up with worldly spoil And with what it had to give. Days were spent in solitude Among the grassy plot, From the world he did seclude In this most congenial spot. But oh how days are mournful And nights are filled with strife, A man becomes quite scornful With no one to share his life. His thoughts flooded with pain He grew weary and forlorn, Then one day they found his remains A victim of bridal veil’s scorn. The legend continues today Rumors are told on the byland, Of acute and utter dismay The tale of the man of Goat Island.