A lawg-chain broke, an' a hemlock load
Come pourin' down on the open road.
It caught Red Jones where he stood at,
It caught Red Jones before he knowed
An' it knocked him down an' it rolled him flat.

We pried 'em loose an' we pulled Red out.
He was bunged up right, an' there ain't no doubt.
He had broke one arm, he had broke one laig,
He had tore his ear, he had broke his snout,
An' his ribs was stove like a soft-boiled aig.

We loaded Red on a lawggin' sleigh
An' we drove all night an' we drove all day
Over corduroy, over rut an' rock,
Till we fetched at last to old Cloquet
An' landed Red with the sawmill doc.

When the doc got through of a-mendin' Red,
An' had him put snug in a trundle bed,
An' he said that Red maybe might survive,
Then what do you think that darn fool said?
“Well, I'm mighty glad to be just alive!”

Then I went downstairs an' I says, says I,
(To myself, of course), “You're a lucky guy!
You ain't broke no laig an' ain't broke no rib,
An' you needn't lay while the days go by
An' eat from a spoon with a baby's bib.”

An' it done me good just to swing my stem,
An' my arms—well, I tried out both of them;
An' I wiggled all of my fingers five,
An' I quoted Red's little vocal gem,
“Well, I'm mighty glad to be just alive!”