Fraser river's flooding high,
Cold and deep and cruel flowing,
All lonely stand the hills nearby,
And man may drown and no one knowing.

Oh, if you heard a shot by night,
Heed not, for it nothing strange is:
What but a hunter should it be
Scaring the wolves along the ranges?

And if beside a mountain trail
One man less a camp is sharing,
No way new is it for men
To come and go and no one caring.

Oh, let you ask now near and far:
Oh, let you ask both here and yonder:
What was he but a roving man,
And who can say where such may wander?

If a thing be gone it comes no more!
If a thing's lost there's none shall find it
Where Fraser river's roaring down
With the weight of all the snows behind it.

And Fraser river's full in flood,
Deep and cold and cruel flowing,
All lonely is the land thereby,
And a man may drown and no one knowing . . .