Riding An Avalanche.

With our Canadian snow shoes,             O'er snow you walk where'er you choose,             But on long shoes Norwegian             They are like narrow toboggan.             And all your movements you control             By the aid of a stout long pole,             With it you balance or propel             But we show now what once befell.             Two miners full of pluck and game,             Wished to locate a mining claim,             On a high steep mountain crest             In Colorado of the West.             Though snow was deep they would attempt             Their good mine for to pre-empt,             So up the mountain they do climb,             Covered o'er with snow and rime.             Norwegian shoes slide over the snow,             High and higher still they go,             One was two hundred yards ahead,             Till snow gives way where he doth tread.             Which quickly starts an avalanche,             He seizes on a stout tree branch,             But all in vain he rushes fast,             His snow shoes in the avalanche.             His friend on shoes Norwegian,             Like lightning down the hill he ran,             Or rather o'er the ice did glide             Down the long steep and glassy slide.             And after him the Avalanche,             Tearing up trees both root and branch,             The man on Avalanche doth yell             To his friend you are doing well.             With your shoes Norwegian,             Swifter than a toboggan,             Go on, go on, you'll win the race,             For we are slack'ning in our pace.             But, alas! poor runner feels             The Avalanche doth touch his heels,             Shall he be buried in the mass,             Or will the vast pile o'er him pass.             He stops quite sudden 'neath a rock,             It passed o'er him with mighty shock,             Though it did cause him great alarm,             Yet still he was all safe from harm.             The Avalanche yet downward slides,             And his friend on it he rides,             Until it safely him doth launch             On outer edge of his own ranch.             After three miles down the gulch,             They both might have been crushed to mulch,             The one he seemed to run a race,             While one on Avalanche did chase.             But it was not for bravado,             One rode, one run in Colorado,             For it was desperate the strife             Each had for to secure his life.             This tale of shoes Norwegian             Is not for the collegian,             But for such youths as do take pride             In reading of a wondrous slide.