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...But times did change, the great drives stopped,
the state came and blew up the rock,
some though that Joe would now pass on,
but he still showed up on dark nights,
and his face was such a sad sight,
a ghost depressed, his one last purpose gone.
For decades the dead man looked blue,
what kept him here, nobody knew,
and he soon passed into folklore,
people forgetting more and more,
appearances grew ever rare,
most didn’t know that he was there,
and Joe was shadowed by despair,
a soul driven half-mad.

It was October when we heard,
great rains had flooded the river,
steams swollen up by a hurricane,
trees by the shore came crashing down,
the water lapped the streets of town,
and great trunks came a-racing down again.
A blue hatchback was swept away,
it came near Joe, and there did stay,
he appeared, and then looked inside,
and saw a child, barely five,
her parents were still on the shore,
mom screamed in panic, waved, implored,
the child screamed back in horror,
no help was to be had.

Joe panicked, as he was a ghost,
which made him more useless than most,
his hands would pass right through the car,
so he cried out to God for help,
and heard the terrified girl yell,
nobody could come help, they were too far.
So he tried to reach for the latch,
and, stunned, felt metal touch his grasp,
the girl looked up, shock in her eyes
at seeing ghostly figures fly,
but Joe grabbed her within his arms,
said soft words to cool her alarm,
and floated that girl clear of harm,
to a stunned mom and dad.

Amidst that hellish overcast
a single beam of light did flash,
turning Joe to a golden sheen,
he smiled and began to face,
the Man has mysterious ways,
but finally Joe would know Heaven’s scene.
A dozen people saw all this,
on it many still reminisce,
the lost river-driver’s story…
in death the man found true glory.
They built a statue in the square,
and people will leave wool shirts there,
of their hero they take great care,
and to this day will brag.
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