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January 10, 2009
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The Ballad of Lake Leapin' Lou

One's memory may fade after ninety-nine years

of life in the mountains near Stowe.

But I'll never forget, or claim to refute,

that momentous event in the snow.

T'was a day to remember, that cold gray December

when Lou bore that stiff corpse to town.

The body quite frigid; the legs they stood rigid,

propped upright as a statue quite sound.

The townsfolk they mingled, each spine gently tingled,

to view that queer sight in the square.

Each child cuddled closely, the atmosphere ghostly,

I know, because I too was right there.

But this yarn began early, as I recall surely,

when Lou set out on his trek.

The winter winds blowing, the air lightly snowing,

his mission no one would suspect.

For he came to this notion while swilling a potion,

a drink he methodically brewed.

He'd capture that creature the poster did feature,

now dauntless and effectively stewed.

The snowman they said, dubbed Abominable Ed,

stalked hunters throughout our fair county.

Too many went missing the sheriff kept hissing,

so he levied a generous bounty.



Lou grabbed his backpack, his musket and hardtack,

a fur hat he drew over his ears.

Set out to track slyly that monster who had galilee

evaded detection for years.

He trudged through the snow, determined to go

where no man would ever explore.

For that monster whose history remained an odd mystery

was the object Old Lou did deplore.

Lou stumbled upon prints and some fur bits as hints

so he knew he was on a hot trail.

For tracking was never a task he endeavored

to practically or willingly fail.

To Lou's great surprise, as he blinked his sore eyes,

at the shore of the lake he did view,

A woolly white beast who was making a feast

of a hunter old Lou had once knew.

So he raised his gun trusty, although it was rusty,

and proceeded to fire at the beast.

The recoil exploded, but since he was loaded,

poor Lou flew back off his feet.

The abominable ghoul, suspecting a fool,

tore up the path toward Lou.

It roared like a lion, as Lou kept on tryin'

to recover his balance, then flew.

Straight to the lake, the path he did take,

then he leapt to the ice with a purpose.

His feet kept on slippin'; the monster kept trippin',

neither noticed the cracking bright surface.


With a formidable rumble, the ice it did crumble

beneath those elephantine feet.

To fall in the drink; disappeared in a blink,

Its maker that moment to meet.

Lou crept to the edge of that slippery ledge,

peering with eyes that were yet blurry.

A dark shadow then rose, til' the tips of its toes

emerged from the lake in a hurry.

Lou pulled with great might, a ridiculous sight

for those creatures who watched from the shore.

Like a great frozen prize, Lou feasted his eyes

On this notorious abominable bore.

Hog-tied with twine Lou had plenty of time

to lug his treasure to Stowe.

For he knew that hard liquor would make him go quicker

So he sipped from a jug on the go.

Now the bounty Lou fested all was invested

in card games, barrooms and booze.

To spent all his treasure on all that good pleasure

for him there was nothing to loose.

Now that is the story of the quest and the glory

of the incredible Lake Leapin' Lou.

Of the monster he bested, such that hunter's are vested,

in a legend now held to be true.

If you venture on through the Northeast Kingdom and do

see on odd looking statue quite stoic.

Remember the tale of Lou and the trail

and his leap to the ice so heroic.

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