On a cold and stormy night
With no rescuers in sight
Two lads struggled bravely for their lives
While their hands were numb with cold
To the ice they scarce could hold
And the bitter wind it cut them like a knife.
The two just that day
Had started on their way
To a lighthouse not three miles away
They had scarce a mile to make
When the ice began to break
And the float began to drift from out the bay
As the dreary night drew on
Poor Jim was nearly gone
He told his friend to go and leave him there
But John R., he would not go
And leave his poor friend so
To die out on the ice so cold and bare.
So he carried Jim awhile
But he could not make the mile
For the space he saw was getting greater
He thought had had to swim
So he had to drop poor Jim
For the time had come for Jim to meet his maker.
Jim’s corpse was found next day
In the ice within the bay
But town folks who did all they could
Later John R. was found
On the island safe and sound
“And brought back to his home: town of Port Hood.