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Transcribed and submitted by Linda Talbott
for the USGenNet Data Repository http://www.us-data.org/
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Formatted by USGenNet Data Repository Chief Archivist, Linda Talbott
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Chicago Daily News
December 7, 1912

                      ~ The Ballad of the Rouse Simmons ~
                          by Charles V. E. Starrett
                            ---------------------
                         
                     This is the tale of the Christmas Ship
                        That sailed o'er the sullen lake
                     And of sixteen souls that made the trip
                        And of death in the foaming wake.
                        
                     "Northward ho!" was the word that day,
                          And lightly riding the wave,
                     The schooner drew from the wharf away
                      With her crew and her Captain brave.
                      
                     Northward sailed the Christmas Ship,
                        And the lake was fair and blue
                      Till she came unto the forest town
                       Where the firs and balsams grew.
                       
                   And the Captain stood at the vessel's helm
                          And smiled at his lusty pack,
                  For he knew what joy for the babes there'd be
                      When the Santa Claus Ship came back.
                      
                   He has laden the Christmas Ship with trees,
                          Till a floating woods she lay.
                   "And now, we must haste," the Captain said,
                         "For fast comes Christmas Day."
                         
                     "Captain," they said, "the sky is lead,
                        While the waves are cold and gray.
                 And the winds roar forth from the frozen north,
                            And will you sail today?"
                            
                     The Captain stood by the schooner's wheel,
                     And his loud laugh roared with the breeze.
                     "We sail," he said, "for the children wait,
                         For our freight of Christmas trees.
                         
                     "Full thirty years we have sailed," he said,
                          "The storms we have made our sport.
                        And the Christmas Ship has never failed 
                            To return to the southern port."
                            
                     But the wind roard down with sleet and snow
                        And the waves lashed toward the skies,
                    And the Captain stood at the schooner's wheel 
                          With the blinding snow in his eyes.
                          
                   The gale through the cordage shrieked and whined
                             And the wanton water roared.
                      And the spray, as it swept before the wind,
                            Bit deep, like a stinging sword.
                            
                     The cold, black waves sweep o'er her sides,
                             The sails are rent and torn.
                    "Captain," they cry, "Does the ship go down?
                             Must we die before the morn?"
                             
                       No gleam of night in the whirling night
                            Gave promise of friendly aid.
                         And one by one the masts went down, 
                           But the Captain stood unafraid.
                           
                       "Captain," they cry, "the seams are rent,
                              And the sea pours in below.
                      And the schooner's pumps are old and worn."
                              And he answered, "Be it so!"
                              
                     The precious freightage of Christmas greens
                            Is swept o'er the vessel's side,
                      And spread to the south and north and west 
                           By the fierce gale's howling tide.
                           
                      Now the wild sea grasps the Christmas Ship,
                              While near her and far away,
                            The angry wind is roaring forth
                              Like a tiger for its prey.
                              
                      Like a chip on the ocean, aflung and tossed,
                            Is the helpless vessel's plight;
                        And strong men pray for the break of day,
                            Or the gleam of a harbor light.
                            
                     Then, the end!  A rush of the headlong flood;
                             A crash and a cry - and then
                       The waters snarl o'er the nameless grave 
                               Of a Captain and his men.
                               
                     Death bellowed afar that night on the lake
                        Where now moans the mournful breeze.
                        And far and wide the waves are green
                        With the children's Christmas trees.
                        
                        The Captain's wife may watch and weep
                            On the sand by the lacy foam,
                    But the Christmas Ship from its Christmas trip
                             Shall never more come home.
                             
                            And the children wait in vain
                          For the ship from the winter seas,
                    For the waves have claimed the Christmas Ship
                          And the children's Christmas trees.
                          
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