By
George Wilcox
The
Devil, in Hell, we are told, was chained,
Thousands
of years he there remained;
He did
not complain nor did he groan,
But
determined to have a Hell of his own,
Where
he could torment the souls of men,
Without
being chained in a sulphur pen.
So he
asked the Lord if he had any land
In a
cooler climate that a poor devil could stand.
The
Lord said, "Yes, but it's not much use,
It's
called Alaska, and it's cold as the deuce;
In fact,
old boy, the place is so bare,
I don't
think you could make a good Hell up there."
The
Devil said he couldn't see why,
He sure
knew his business and would like to try;
So the
bargain was made and deed was given,
And
the Devil quickly departed from Heaven.
We next
see the Devil far up in the North,
Exploring
Alaska to see what it's worth;
From
the top of McKinley he looked at the truck,
And
said, "If I got in for nothing, still I'm stuck."
But
oh! It was fine to be out in the cold,
And
though the wind blew a gale, the Devil grew bold;
And
there on the height of the mountain he planned
To make
of Alaska the Home of the Damned,
A different
place from the old-fashioned Hell
Where
each soul burned in an old-fashioned cell.
He used
every means that a wise Devil needed.
He filled
the air with millions of gnats,
Spread
the Yukon over the flats;
Set
a line of volcanoes near Unimak Pass
Bred
the mosquitoes in tundra grass;
Made
six months night, when it's sixty below,
A howling
wind and a pelting snow.
Six
months day with a spell now and then,
Too
hot for the Devil - too hot for his men.
Hungry
wolves and dogs by the pack,
That,
when they yell, send chills down your back;
And
as you mush o'er the barren expanse
The
north wind blows big holes in your pants.
But
of all the pests that the Imp could devise,
The
Yukon mosquitoes are the Devil's prize.
They
have the rattlesnake's bite and the scorpion's sting,
And
measure six inches from wing to wing.
The
Devil said, when he fashioned these,
"Each
one will be worse than a million fleas."
When
the dew falls low and there's plenty of rain
He grew
flowers and berries - just for a bluff,
The
Devil knew how to peddle his stuff.
To show
how well he knew his game,
The
Devil next salted his new Hell Claim;
He put
gold nuggets in all the streams,
Hid
them 'neath the glacial ice,
As a
Reform City hides its vice;
He bid
Dame Rumor spread the news,
To all
the world and its motley crews;
That
there was gold in heaps and piles,
All
the colors and all the styles;
He then
displayed a grim sardonic grin,
And
said, "Now watch all the fools rush in."
They'll
fight for gold and steal and slay,
But
in the end, it's me they'll pay.
Oh!
A fine Hell this, that the Devil owns,
Its
trails are marked with frozen bones;
The
wild wind moans o'er bleak plain and hill,
'Tis
a Hell of a Place he has for his Hell;
And
now you should know if anyone ask you,
What
kind of a place is our Alaska.
