I guess it was the follerin' mornin'
That old Rapp lost his mind
We'd one hundred twenty posts to make
And miles of ice behind.

It was hard to tell, in that hurtlin' wind
We was all of us snow-blinded
When we asked Raparre to take the lead
And no-one thought he minded.

He moved his rig ahead of us
All careful, fair and nice,
An' cracked his bull-whip over the dogs
And headed down the ice.

We heard him over the howlin' wind,
Yelling "Koo!! Calloo! Callay!!"
An' were hard put keeping sight of him
On the trail to the next of Kay.