
Tue Aroostook Woops. 


Now a dam across the waters, 
Narrow waters at the outlet ; 
Built by man and not by beavers, 
Flowing back to upper inlet. 
Many waters thus confining, 
Flowing every cove and jutting ; 
Held in check for spring-time driving, 
Of the lumber,—winter’s cutting. 
Strong the dam, built with an incline, 
Rocky walls each side assisting ; 
With its gate to hoist at spring-time, 
When the lumbermen are sluicing. 
And the trout pool, ’neath the apron, 
Deep from water always pouring ; 
Here they find the choicest fishing, 
Jolly fine the chance for camping. 
In the cheerful early morning, 
Pleasant Indian summer time ; 
They are out to see the dawning, 
On the dam, with hook and line. 
Mists are rising from the river, 
Rosy is the eastern sky ; 
Few such mornings seldom ever, 
Happy hearts the reason why. 
Here in God’s country, all are happy, 
Birds are singing everywhere ; 
Trout are leaping from the rapids, 
Squirrels chasing on the shore. 
