Three Men’s Fate

By Mrs. Ada Nickerson
"Tune to “Rosewood Casket”

One Evening Three Men, Will Franklin, Sam King and his Son Reuben
Were driving along on their way home,
After Their days work was done.

They probably hadn’t even thought,
That danger lay ahead.
Two hours hadn’t rolled round,
When two of them lay dead.

For it was at the railroad crossing,
The train they did not see,
It was there they lost their lives,
By passenger number three.

The fireman gave the signal,
The engineer looked ahead.
And there by the railroad crossing,
Lay Franklin already dead.

And with horror the others realized,
The train had struck their car.
And such a moment they spent there,
For the wreck was a flaming fire.

When the men had gathered around,
To fight the burning flames,
To me asked who these men were,
And Reuben told their names.

The oldest man knew he was soon to die,
And was ready to give up to God.
The next day at 4:00 o’clock,
They were buried beneath the sod.

And the evening of the wreck,
The others and wives get the word.
To them it was the worst thing,
That they had ever heard.

The morning Reuben went away,
He told his mother good-bye
Never thinking he would see her no more
Before he had to die.

His mother’s heart was broken,
Her grief was hard to bear
For she had to give up her darling boy,
Her boy so young and fair.

Reuben lived the longest of the three
To find how his father was he tried
Being too weak to know the truth,
He never knew his father died.

Franklin had a little girl,
His darling little Bernice ---
When he told her good-bye he never thought,
His life with her would ever cease.

And his dear wife with burdened heart
That sad day he had to leave.
To bear her trouble all alone,
No matter how much her heart would grieve.

We should all be ready to go ---
The young --- middle age --- and old,
To live with him who died for us
And walk the streets of gold.



This three page typed story was among my Mothers things passed to me after her death. There were several typed copies given to family members at the time of the accident.
The story has been passed down from Polly McCann King,
to her daughter, Ethel King Thurman,
to her daughter Novie Thurman Cannon,
to her daughter, my mother Melba Sue Cannon Hinton.

This story may be copied for your use but please add the source!
Source: Donna Hinton Warke or A Footstep In Time.