Hiked up the canyon, gray and morose
Cold snow falling; hands balled into fists
The cavers ahead disappearing like ghosts
To the Cave of the Swirling Mists

Stream barely flowing over hard gneiss
Trail it follows the bank at a list
The footing is poor on account of the ice
To the Cave of the Swirling Mists

The fire pit left smoldering,
the locals ran off
No wonder they’re so often dissed
We douse it down good;
the steam makes us cough
To the Cave of the Swirling Mists

Climbing the slope two hundred feet up
“ Watch that whip branch!”
the guy ahead hissed
I’ll fall on my ass with any less luck
At the Cave of the Swirling Mists

Apparition ahead, Temple of Isis
A stumble, another step missed
I’m high enough up; a fall’s a crisis
At the Cave of the Swirling Mists

Now we go in; the ceiling is low
My helmet is so often kissed
With the bad weather can’t feel the airflow
In the Cave of the Swirling Mists

Arrive at the face
where somebody’s scooped
Left their mess; now we are all pissed
The passage so tight you can’t even stoop
In the Cave of the Swirling Mists

We clean up their mess; it takes until lunch
Loading dirt with a flip of the wrist
We have to be close
to a breakthrough; our hunch
In the Cave of the Swirling Mists

Six hard months later Tom and Chas go up
To remove a rock that’s no schist
They break into over a thousand feet, yup
In the Cave of the Swirling Mists