Floyd Collins


“Floyd Collins,” Appalachian State University Libraries Digital Collections, accessed May 23, 2024, https://omeka.library.appstate.edu/items/show/31540.

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Floyd Collins


This item is part of the I. G. Greer Folksong Collection which consists of more than 300 individual song titles and their variants as collected by Isaac Garfield Greer (1881-1967) from informants, primarily in Ashe, Wilkes and Watauga counties. The collection includes manuscripts, typescript transcriptions produced by Dr. Greer’s clerical staff, and handwritten musical notations. Songs range from traditional Child Ballads, traditional English and Scottish ballads as well as their American variants, to 19th century popular music to musical compositions of local origin.


Ballads--United States
Collins, Floyd, 1890-1925--Songs and music
Caving accidents--Songs and music
Rescues--Songs and music
Death--Songs and music

Alternative Title

Floyd Collins' Death


W. L. Eury Appalachian Collection, Appalachian State University


Greer, I. G. (Isaac Garfield), 1881-1967








Floyd Collins.

Oh, come all ye young people,
And listen while I tell
The fate of Floyd Collins,
A lad we all knew well.
His face was fair and handsome,
And his hear was true and brave.
His body now lies sleeping
In the sand stone cave.

How sad, how sad the story,
It fills my eyes with tears.
The memory, too will linger
For many, many years.
The broken hearted father,
Who tried his boy to save,
Will now weep tears of sorrow
At the door of Floyd's cave.

Dear mother, don't you worry.
Dear Father, Don't be sad,
And I'll tell you all my troubles
In an awful dream I had.
I dreamed I was a prisoner
My life I could not save.
I cried: Oh, must I perish
Within the silent cave.

The rescue party labored,
They worked both night and day
To move that mighty barrier
That stood within their way.
To rescue Floyd Collins,
It was a battle cry.
We'll never, no we'll never
Let Floyd Collins die.

But on the fatal moring
The sun rose in the sky.
The workers were still busy.
We'll save him by and by.
But oh, how sad the ending.
His life they could not save.
His body now lies sleeping
In a lonely sand stone cave.

Young people, all take warning
From Floyd Collins' fate,
And get right with your maker
Before it is too late.
It may not be a sand cave
In which we find our tomb
But at the bar of judgment
We, too, must meet our doom.

Scholarly Classification

Brown, Native American Ballads - 212 Laws, G 22

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