The London Flood
From the long, continuous rains,
O’erflowing were the swamps and drains,
For each day had its heavy shower,
Torrents fell for many an hour.
At London, where two branches join,
It seem’d two furies did combine
For to spread far both death and woe,
With their wild, raging overflow.
E’en houses did on waters float
As though each had been built for boat,
And where was health, and joy and bloom
Soon naught but inmates for the tomb;
Flood o’erflowed both vale and ridges
And swept railroads, dams and bridges.
A mother climbed in tree to save
Her infant from a watery grave,
But on the house you saw its blood,
Where it was crushed ‘gaist tree by flood.
Where cottages ’mong gardens stood
’Tis covered o’er with vile drift wood,
O’er flowers and bushes you may travel
For they are buried under gravel ;
Or, you may walk o’er barren sand,
The crops washed out and fertile land.
Two funerals we at once did see
Of one family, who lost three.
No longer river’s deep and wide,
But gently flows to distant tide.
What is called in Canada a ‘creek ’ is Scotland called
a ‘burn.’
‘The muse, nae poet ever fand her;
Till by himself he learned to wander
Adown some trotting burn’s meander.' –BURNS.
