You will hear tall tales of mighty men
When the hard rock miners gather
To drink their beer and shoot the breeze
Away from the Leyners clatter.
Tales of the tons of muck they broke
To the tune of the stopers burring,
The score of many a hard drilled round
Which the driftite hounds did shatter,
Where the whirling vent fans squeal and skirl
And the jack legs shrilly clatter.
They tell of Nick from old Sheep Creek,
Big Jim from Copper Mountain,
The brawling Finn from Pend Oreille
There are scores of yarns about 'em.
These lads were famous underground
With exploits too many to count 'em.
But the greatest deeds in stope or drift
So say the ones who tell 'em.
Are the deeds of a guy named Bonus Bill
Who came from Bearcat Mountain.
Bonus Bill stood nine feet three
With his socks on but without 'em,
Of course he stood a fraction less
Said one and I don't doubt him.
His neck was like a white-faced bull
Only some ten times stronger,
The paws upon his hairy arms
Like grizzly's only longer.
I'd say this Bill was quite a man
To fame he was no stranger.
The hard-toed boots that decked his feet
Were big as cook shack tables,
The muscles of his mighty arms
Were thick as main hoist cables.
The guard hat that adorned his dome
Was made of ball mill liners.
Some twenty nippers packed his steel
To run a score of leyners.*
For he ran ten with each big mitt;
He was the Prince of Miners.
Bill sure broke out a heap of muck.
Each shift when he was drifting,
Ten tons of powder every round
He used up for his loading.
His crew of thirty powder men
He sure kept 'em hustling.
His gang it was a highball crew,
Nippers and powder monkeys.
And so were his twenty timbermen
With water boys and flunkeys.
Six rattling ore trains speeding fast
Served him when he was mucking.
They hit the track at sixty per
Like crazy broncs a' bucking.
Two switchmen stood at every switch
To keep the trains a' rolling.
Their thunder could be heard for miles
Like the Catskill giants bowling.
Big Steve was Bill's Chief Loci Man
"Highball" you'd hear him roaring.
Bill's muck stick made of two inch plate
Was forged by twenty blacksmiths,
Helped by various labourers
Apprentices and locksmiths.
Although the job was speeded up
With many extra helpers,
The handle was a six foot sprag
That Atlas forged and welded
On to the blade the smiths had made,
None better was ever melded.
Ten husky muckers packed it in
When "Muck stick," Bill would bellow.
They hurried fast after the blast
Bill was an impatient fellow.
At each fast lick of that muck stick
One ore car had its filling,
Each car when fill held sixteen ton
Bill liked to keep 'em milling.
The mill crew were a hard boiled bunch
They had no place for weaklings.
A mile advance on every shift
That meant a heap of bonus.
A lot of cash for Bonus Bill
And more for the promoters.
Ten engineers raced up the drift
Keeping score for the owners.
Scribbling figures in their books
With swiftly moving fingers.
They sure used up a head of lead,
Bill didn't allow for boners.
It took a staff of fifteen clerks
To keep track of Bill's wages,
And five or six stenographers
Each typing forms and pages.
Also a score of office brats
Rushing around with memos.
The paymaster he worked overtime
To keep things in the level
Knowing that for the least mistake
Old Bill would raise the devil.
On payday Bill set out to town
And fast he liked to travel
His cruising speed was ninety per
On blacktop or on gravel.
The blue streak was his favourite car
Though naturally he had others,
He used to loan the others out
To his helpers and their brothers.
When Bill was in a travelling mood,
He didn't spare the horses.
One night as Bill was swilling beer,
(His crock it held five gallons,)
He flexed the muscles of his arms
And clenched his mighty talons.
Said he, "In all the northern land
Where'er I chanced to wander,
I never met the man or beast
As strong as me or stronger.
Nor one to match me drink for drink
And on his feet stay longer."
Said one name Fosdick, "Bill, I hear
Of a fellow, name of Sasquatch,
The lad the Red Men talk about
At tribal feast or potlatch.
They say this wild and woolly gent
In all the land is strongest,
And if you tangled with this bird,
He sure would last the longest.
I'd like to see you take him on
It sure would be some contest.
This fellow lives way west of here
High up on the mountain,
He wrestles grizzly bears for fun
Of strength he is the fountain.
One time long past so goes the yarn
He fought a lad named Bunyan.
He took this Paul in three straight falls
Then heaved him down the canyon.
To pull off such a stunt as that
He must be quite a Rannihan.
Paul landed with a mighty thud
Down in old Fraser River.
The impact of his falling hulk
Made all of B.C. quiver.
The skidding of his well caulked boots
Caused tons of muck to wander
AtHells Gate it made quite a dam
To check the hurrying water.
You can see the spot this very day
If you will take gander."
Bill let out a blast of wrath
Like fifty range bulls bawling.
Said he, "Such yarns are like the froth
That on this beer does gather,
So put your money on line
And stop this foolish blather.
They say this bird can get me down,
I say the sons are lying.
He'll never lay me in the dust,
It's no damn use his trying."
Bill blew his top angry roars
Made the Maldon rock and tremble.
Swore he, "I'll seek this faker out
And make him give me battle,
I'll meet him on his snow crowned perch
Where the big storms roll and rattle.
No matter to what rock bound den
He may run for shelter,
I'll drag him from his mountain home
And make him be my helper."
Next day at dawn Bill set out
To find the hairy Sasquatch,
Whose fame is known and exploits told
At tribal feast and Potlatch.
Everyone said with two so bold
T'would be a battle gory,
And one of them would hit the dust,
And one would get the glory.
The winner no doubt would be
Revered in song and story.
That Bill would lay the Sasquatch low
His gang they had no doubt.
To get in on such easy dough
With bets they went about.
To bet upon this Sasquatch bird
Bill's enemies were willing,
For he is just about said they
To get his final grilling.
The first to bet a hundred bucks
Was a timber hog named Dilling.
John Thompson said, "One thing I know,
This Sasquatch he is nifty.
He'll make a monkey out of Bill
With tactics sly and shifty.
That he will clean Bill's craw but fast
I now will bet you fifty."
Said Thompson, "Bob, you got a bet
I'm telling you old timer,
No man can beat old Bonus Bill
This bearcat of a miner.
In Salmo town, t'was betting day.
Bill had a lot of backers.
Jimmy Grant said, "This ain't hay."
As he flashed a hundred smackers*
"Bill he will take the hairy one
Easy as eating crackers.
Said Howie Breeze, "I'll back his nibs
The bold and hairy Sasquatch.
Bill's boasting is much hogwash."
Some they backed Bill and wished him well
Hoping he would survive,
With victory on the battle ground
When there he did arrive.
Others said, "Oh what the hell,
He'll be lucky to stay alive."
Some put a spot of hard earned cash
On the outcome of the issue.
Others said, "Goodbye you ape.
If you get yours, we won't miss you."
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