Lyrics: Kirsten Abrahamson & Rob MacDonald (with apologies to Stan Rogers)
Tune: "The Mary Ellen Carter", by Stan Rogers
We went out last October in a pouring driving rain.
Our Scouter wasn’t thinking and we Scouts complained in vain.
Down below the barn is where he said our tents must go,
By the Ted Claxton Memorial Kybo.
Well the rain came down in buckets and the water it did rise.
You should have heard the screaming as the Scouts woke in surprise!
The Kybo’s ghastly contents they were flooding past the drain,
Like some hellish putrid juggernaut freight train.
The Kybo it heeled over as its vault washed out below,
and soon it started floating, and down the hill did go,
like some outlandish boat it heaved along this gruesome tide,
with many frantic Scouts trapped there inside.
There were 15 Scouts aboard it when it finally was awash.
We worked like hell to save it, all heedless of the cost,
And the groan it gave when it went down, it caused us to proclaim,
That the Edward Claxton Kybo’d rise again.
Well, Scouts Canada wrote it off; not a nickel would they spend.
“It gave twenty years of service, boys, then met its sorry end.
But insurance paid the loss to us, so let it rest below.”
Then they laughed at us and said we had to go.
But we talked of it all winter, some days around the clock,
For it’s worth a quarter million smiles, to Ted and all his flock.
And with every slug of mug-up juice, we swore we would remain
And make the Edward Claxton Kybo rise again.
Rise again, rise again –
that it’s name not be lost to the knowledge of men.
Those who used it most, and were with it till the end
Will make the Edward Claxton Kybo rise again.
All spring, now, we've been at it with a power washer hose.
Three times a day in HAZMAT suits and twice I've burnt my nose.
Thank God it's only eight feet tall and the air currents here blow wide
Or I'd never have the strength to go inside.
But we've patched its rents, stopped its vents, dogged latch and poop-hole down.
Put cables to it, 'fore and aft and girded it around.
Tomorrow, noon, we’ll hit the air and then take up the strain.
And watch the Edward Claxton Kybo rise again.
Rise again, rise again –
that it’s name not be lost to the knowledge of men.
Those who used it most, and were with it till the end
Will make the Edward Claxton Kybo rise again.
For we couldn't leave it there, you see, to crumble into dust.
It'd saved our lives so many times, when we were fit to bust
And the laughing, thoughtless rats who left it to a sorry grave
They won't be laughing in another day.
And you, to whom adversity has dealt a cruel blow
While sitting there and thinking long inside the old Kybo,
Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain
And like the Edward Claxton Kybo, rise again.
Rise again, rise again –
Let our hearts not be lost like the excrement of men.
No matter what you’ve lost be it a tent, a pack, a friend,
Like the Edward Claxton Kybo, rise again.
Rise again, rise again –
Let our hearts not be lost like the excrement of men.
No matter what you’ve lost be it a tent, a pack, a friend,
Like the Edward Claxton Kybo, rise again.