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.
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