Come all you young people
And listen to what I tell:
The fate of Floyd Collins,
Alas, we all know well.
His face was fair and handsome,
His heart was true and brave,
His body now lies sleeping
In a lonely sandstone cave.
How sad, how sad the story,
It fills our eyes with tears,
His memory will linger
For many, many a year.
His broken-hearted father
Who tried his boy to save
Will now weep tears of sorrow
At the door of Floyd's cave.
Oh, mother, don't you worry,
Dear father, don't be sad;
I'll tell you all my troubles
In an awful dream I had;
I dreamed that I was prisoner,
My life could not be saved,
I cried, "Oh! must I perish,
Within the silent cave?"
The rescue party gathered,
They labored night and day
To move the mighty boulder
That stood within the way.
"To rescue Floyd Collins!"
This was the battlecry.
"We will never, no, we will never
Let Floyd Collins die."
But on that fatal morning
The sun rose in the sky,
The workers still were busy,
"We will save him by and by."
But, oh, how sad the evening,
His life they could not save,
His body then was sleeping
Within the lonely cave.
Young people all take warning
With this, for you and I,
We may not be like Collins,
But you and I must die.
It may not be in a sand cave
In which we find our tomb,
But at that mighty judgment
We soon will find our doom.
--Adam Crisp