The Little Shenango — a bluegrass song about a wild boat ride
© Lannie Dietle 2026
They took a little boat ride from the Leech's Corners bridge.
The snow melt was comin' down, and they were reckless kids.
They didn't have life vests, and wore heavy winter clothes,
and they didn't have a clue how fast the snow melt goes.
By the time they got to Crooked Creek, the sun was settin' down.
The temperature was droppin', and the water a-racing down.
To make it through them high speed turns as darkness came and fell,
they set that boat up sideways, and then they paddled fast as hell.
It finally got so dark that they missed a right-hand curve.
They hit brush a-goin' sideways, and darn near overturned.
With one paddle lost and gone, they were clinging to that brush,
the gunwale nearly under, and floodwater comin' in a rush.
It was really do-or-die time as they pushed off in the dark.
There weren't no other choice, and the odds seemed pretty stark.
The gorge began to narrow, makin' the water even faster.
Was there any way to survive, or were they headed for disaster?
The water began to roil, the boat lurched up and down.
They were soaked with ice water, and thought they're gonna drown.
As they rode that rolling river, they worked closer to the shore.
Trees were flashing by, and they were frozen to the core.
With all of his strength, one guy grabbed a little tree.
He was hoping it would stop them, but instead, he ripped it free.
As they came up to the town, the river began to widen.
The water, it slowed down, and their outlook began to brighten.
They came upon a little beach, and finally got themselves ashore.
They learned their lesson well, and didn't ride the snow melt any more.
Oh, they learned their lesson well, and didn't ride the snow melt any more.
Yeah, they learned their lesson well, and didn't ride the snow melt any more.
The little fiberglass boat was about six feet long, and had no flotation. We were dressed in our heavy winter hunting clothing. We didn't have any life preservers, and we were using homemade paddles. If the boat had sunk — which it nearly did — I doubt we could have avoided drowning. By the time we were finally able to beach the boat, we were experiencing severe hypothermia. For more details of our perilous spur of the moment boat ride, see pages 320 to 322 of my 2024 book "In the Land of Used to Be."
What stays with me most is the cold — the kind of cold that cuts straight through heavy winter clothes and leaves you shaking from the inside out. By the time we reached town, we were soaked from a freezing river ordeal that pushed us far past anything we were prepared for. Even after running the whole way home to 61 South Race Street, we were still shaking from hypothermia.
After experiencing and surviving the raw power of nature, we were left with a good bluegrass adventure story — and the kind of hard-earned wisdom you only get by surviving something you shouldn't have walked away from. We learned our lesson well, and we never rode the snow melt again. No more dangerous river adventures!
L. Dietle
Home Page › Bluegrass & Folk Song Index › "The Little Shenango" Song Lyrics
