The following Copied From A Poem By Michael Whalen, the well-known Miramichi poet.

Far within the forest scene, where
 the trees forever green
From a contrast to the beech and
 birches grey,
Where the snow lies white and deep,
 and the snowbirds seem to sleep,
And cease their sweetest singing all
 the day, 
Where the mighty monster moose,
 of limbs long and large and loose,
Through the forest sweeps with strides
 both swift and strong,
 Where the caribou and deer, swim the
 brooks so crystal clear,
Where the deep and dark Dungarvon sweeps
 along.

Where the black bear has his den,
far beyond the haunts of men,
Where the muskrat, mink and
marten fill the streams,
Where the squirrel light and free,
swiftly springs from tree to tree,
And the lovely snowwhite rabbit
sleeps and dreams,
Where the sounds of toil resound,
far across the frozen ground,
And the thousand things that to
the woods belong,
Where the saws and axes ring, and
 the woodsman wildly sing,
Where the dark and deep
Dungarvon sweeps along.

In a lumber camp one day, while
 the crew were far away,
And the boss and cook were in
 the camp alone,
A sad tragedy took place, and
 death won another race,
When the young cook swiftly
passed to the unknown.
From that day of long ago, comes
 this weird tale of woe,
The sad and solemn subject of
my song,
When this young man drooped and
 died, in his youth and manhood's
 pride,
Where the dark and deep Dungarvon
 sweeps along.
When the crew returned at night,
 what a sad scene met their sight,
There lay the young cook, silent,
 cold and dead.

Death was in his curling hair, in his
 young face pale and fair,
While his knapsack formed a pillow
 for his head.
From the belt about his waist, all his
 money was misplaced,
Which made the men suspect some
 serious wrong.
Was it murder cold and dread,
that befell the fair young dead,
Where the dark and deep
Dungarvon sweeps along.
When they asked the skipper
 why he had made no wild outcry,
He turned away and hid his
haughty head.

"Well, the youngster took so sick,
and he died so mighty quick,
 I hadn't time to think," was all
he said.
A tear was in each eye, each heart
 heaved a heavy sigh,
While through each breast the
strangest feeling throng,
Then each reverent head was
bared, as his funeral they prepared,
Where the dark and deep
Dungarvon sweeps along.

Fast fell the driven snow, while
 the wildest winds did blow,
Till four feet deep it lay upon
the ground,
So that on the burial day, to the
 graveyard far away,
To bear the corpse impossible
was found.
Then a forest grave was made,
and in it the cook was layed,
While the songbirds and the
woodsmen ceased their song,
There the last fairwells were
said, o'er the young and lonely dead,
Where the dark and deep
Dungarvon sweeps along.

Then the crew to camp returned,
their dear comrade still they mourned,
While the shades of night were
 falling o'er the hill.
All that long and fearful night,
all the camp was in affright,
Such fearful whoops and yells
the forest fill.
Pale and ghastly was each face,
"We shall leave this fearful place,
For this camp unto the demon
does belong.
Ere the dawning of the day,
we shall hasten far away
From where the dark and
deep Dungarvon sweeps
 along."

Since that day, so goes the word,
fearful sounds have long been heard,
Far around the scene where
lies the woodsman's grave.
Whoops, the stoutest heart to
 thrill; yells, the warmest blood to chill,
And send terror to the bravest
of the brave,
Till beside the grave did stand,
God's good man with lifted hand,
And prayed that He these sounds
would not prolong,
That these fearful sounds would
cease, and the region rest in peace.
Where the dark and deep
Dungarvon sweeps along.

Since that day the sounds have
ceased, and the region is released,
From those most unearthly whoops
and screams and yells.
All around the Whooper's Spring,
there is heard no evil thing,
And around the Whooper's grave
deep silence dwells.
Be this story false or true, I
have told it unto you,
As I heard it from the folk
lore all life long,
So I hope all strife shall cease,
and our people dwell in peace,
Where the dark and deep
Dungarvon sweeps along