Baraboo weekly news. [volume] (Baraboo, Wis.) 1912-197?, 1915-05-13
Ri0er History:
LQFeJ@enSon

JOnn Scout IN portage Register
There's man whose name I'll men
ton; tbs that genius Magnus Sven
son,
For he damned the broad Wisconsin
and he gave US Swenson lake.
Now the river is obeying. flowing back
ward and delaying,
And the leaping waves are saying, Mag
nus Swenson, were awake.
Then he smiles upon his treasure, say
ing give me honest measure.
For tomorrow you'll be pouring through
whistling turbine wheel.
By this great grand transformation, you
will leap about the nation,
And the people in Milwaukee will at
your power feel;
Men will say without reflection, that
your power will bear inspection,
But there'll never be rejection, while
you take the place of steam.
If they speak Of your invention, then
your birth place you may mention,
For you came from fair lake SwensOn
on that broad Wisconsin stream.
Come with me to Kilbourn City, tits
an inland town and pretty,
Here the Dells of the Wisconsin are
the grandest in the West;
There the God of nature fingered, deftly
touched and fairly fingered
All the gulches, dells and grottos from
narrows to the dam;
And the river raging, roaring, leaping.
dashing, seething, soaring, U
Over rocks and lodges pouring, seek
ing to destroy frail man.
Years ago when SHOWS were thawirg
and the lumber mills were saving,
Raftsman piled and cribbed the lum-
Der for the markets farther south.
And the willy craftsman and the jolly
river raftsman
Rode to guide the yellow product to
the winding rivers mouth.
When rapids piece was ready, the
pilot with q crew quite steady,
Rode to guide the leaping lumber
through those Gaping jaws of hell,
And the pilot, cool and steady, always
faithful, firm and ready,
For, to save both life and lumber while
shooting through the dell;
But an oar is snapped asunder and TIE
crew one less in number
Never stops to rest or slumber till
they find him down the dell.
In lonely grave they laid him, where
the. stately pine trees shade him,
And kind farewell they babe him in
his everlasting dream.
Here the angels sure will findshim for
his good deeds will remind them
That he's sleeping by lake Swenson
on that broad Wisconsin stream.
When that noted Indian Black Hawk,
famous in his day and time.
Planned a massacre and murder I'll
along the river line
And the sturdy, hardly settler, working
out of sight and view
Came and found his home in ashes and
his wife and babies slew.
Tears of anguish, grief and sorrow
mingled with his load of woe,
Then he grasped his trusty rife and
made war against the foe.
Indian warfare, ambush fighting, white
and red together fell,
Till the savage cry of murder rang
throughout Wisconsin, dell.
Fighting in the bush and thicket, oft
behind some sheltered rock,
Till the Indian, partly beaten, crossed
the river near by Sank.
Here once more the red men gathered
gave again their battle shout,
On that lone and lovely mountain
known to all BLACK Hawks look
OUT
Black Hawks gone, his wars are over
life is now happy dream,
If you re living by lake Swenson, on
that broad Wisconsin stream,
Differing from the warrior Black Hawk
lived another Indian chief,
Made treaty with the white men,
taught allegiance to be brief,
And his tribe, the Winnebagoes,
roamed the county far and near,
Fished the streams from lake to river
caught the fox and chased the deer
And their chief the great Dekorra,
huge in statute, large of frame,
Never broke his word or treaty, for
he had a noble brain,
And the settlers, who admired him
for his sane and mild career,
Named township in his honor, scat
tered flowers on his bier.
Dekorra has golden future, all her
peoples high esteem,
She is located by lake Swenson on that
broad Wisconsin stream.