The Legend

"The Legend"

Artist: Steve Cook
Genre: Folk
Released: 1987

"The Legend" is a 1987 folk song by Steve Cook. The track was written originally as an April Fool's Day prank to play at Cook's job at WTCM Radio. Since 1987, four different editions of the song have been written and recorded, with the most recent version being released in 2007.

Original Spring 1987 Lyrics

A cool summer morning in early June
Is when the legend began
At a nameless logging camp in Wexford county
Where the Manistee River ran

11 lumberjacks near the Garland Swamp
Found an animal they thought was a dog
In a playful mood, they chased it around
Till it ran inside a hollow log

A logger named Johnson grabbed him a stick
And poked around inside
Then the thing let out an unearthly scream and came out
And stood upright

None of those men ever spoke very much
About whatever happened then
They just packed up their belongings and left that night
And were never heard from again

It was ten years later in '97
When a farmer near Buckley was found
Slumped over his plow, his heart had stopped
There were dog tracks all around

Seven years past the turn of the century
They say a crazy old widow had a dream
Of dogs that circled her house at night
They walked like men and screamed

In 1917
A sheriff who was out a-walking
Found a driverless wagon and tracks in the dust
Like wolves had been a-stalking

Near the roadside, a four-horse team
Lay dead with their eyes open wide
When the vet finished up his examination
He said it looked like they died from fright

In '37 a schooner captain said
Several crew members had reported
A pack of wild dogs roaming Bowers Harbor
His story was never recorded

A man of the cloth in '57
Found claw marks on an old church door
The newspaper said they'd been made by a dog
He'd have had to stood seven-foot-four

In '67 a van-load of hippies
Told a park ranger named Quinlan
They'd been awakened at night by a scratch at the window
There was a dog-man looking in and grinning

In '77 there were screams in the night
Near the village of Bellaire
Could've been a bobcat, could've been the wind
Nobody looked up there

So far this spring
No stories have appeared
Have the dog-men gone away?
Have they disappeared?

Soon enough I guess we'll know
'Cause summer is almost here
And in this decade called the 80s
The seventh year is here

And somewhere in the north woods darkness
A creature walks upright
And the best advice you may ever get
Is don't go out at night

Summer 1987 Lyrics

A cool summer morning in early June
Is when the legend began
At a nameless logging camp in Wexford county
Where the Manistee River ran

11 lumberjacks near the Garland Swamp
Found an animal they thought was a dog
In a playful mood, they chased it around
Till it ran inside a hollow log

A logger named Johnson grabbed him a stick
And poked around inside
Then the thing let out an unearthly scream and came out
And stood upright

None of those men ever spoke very much
About whatever happened then
They just packed up their belongings and left that night
And were never heard from again

It was ten years later in '97
When a farmer near Buckley was found
Slumped over his plow, his heart had stopped
There were dog tracks all around

Seven years past the turn of the century
They say a crazy old widow had a dream
Of dogs that circled her house at night
They walked like men and screamed

In 1917
A sheriff who was out a-walking
Found a driverless wagon and tracks in the dust
Like wolves had been a-stalking

Near the roadside, a four-horse team
Lay dead with their eyes open wide
When the vet finished up his examination
He said it looked like they died of fright

In '37 a schooner captain said
Several crew members had reported
A pack of wild dogs roaming Bowers Harbor
His story was never recorded

In '57 a man of the cloth
Found claw marks on an old church door
The newspaper said they were made by a dog
He'd have had to stood seven-foot-four

In '67 a van-load of hippies
Told a park ranger named Quinlan
They'd been awakened in the night by a scratch at the window
There was a dog-man looking in and grinning

In '77 there were screams in the night
Near the village of Bellaire
Could've been a bobcat, could've been the wind
Nobody looked up there

So far this year
No stories have appeared
Have the dog-men gone away?
Have they disappeared?

Soon enough I guess we'll know
'Cause this is the time to fear
'Cause in this decade called the 80s
The seventh year is here

And somewhere in the north woods darkness
A creature walks upright
And the best advice you may ever get
Is don't go out at night

1997 Lyrics

"So the officer and I went out to take a look at it, and it just tried to chew in around the doors. And you could see a dog print, you know, alongside of the window there. So, it was... obviously, you know, a dog."

A cool summer morning in early June
Is when the legend began
At a nameless logging camp in Wexford county
Where the Manistee River ran

11 lumberjacks near the Garland Swamp
Found an animal they thought was a dog
In a playful mood, they chased it around
Till it ran inside a hollow log

A logger named Johnson grabbed him a stick
And poked around inside
Then the thing let out an unearthly scream and came out
And stood upright

None of those men ever said very much
About whatever happened then
They just packed up their belongings and left that night
Were never heard from again

It was ten years later in '97
When a farmer near Buckley was found
Slumped over his plow, his heart had stopped
There were dog tracks all around

Seven years past the turn of the century
They say a crazy old widow had a dream
Of dogs that circled her house at night
They walked like men and screamed

In 1917
A sheriff who was out a-walking
Found a driverless wagon and tracks in the dust
Like wolves had been a-stalking

Near the roadside, a four-horse team
Lay dead with their eyes open wide
When the vet finished up his examination
He said it looked like they died of fright

In '37 a schooner captain said
Several crew members had reported
A pack of wild dogs roaming Bowers Harbor
His story was never recorded

In '57 a man of the cloth
Found claw marks on an old church door
The newspaper said they'd been made by a dog
He'd have had to stood seven-foot-four

In '67 a van-load of hippies
Told a park ranger named Quinlan
They'd been awakened in the night by a scratch at the window
There was a dog-man looking in and grinning

In '77 there were screams in the night
Near the village of Bellaire
Could've been a bobcat, could've been the wind
Nobody looked up there

Then in the summer of '87
Near Luthor, it happened again
At a cabin in the woods it looked like maybe
Someone had tried to break in

There were cuts round the doors could've only been made
By very sharp teeth and claws
He didn't wear shoes 'cause he didn't have feet
He walked on just two paws

So far this year
No stories have appeared
Have the dog-men gone away?
Have they disappeared?

Soon enough I guess we'll know
'Cause this is the time to fear
For another ten years has come around
The seventh year is here

And somewhere in the north woods darkness
A creature walks upright
And the best advice you may ever get
Is don't go out at night

2007 Lyrics

A cool summer morning in early June
Is when the legend began
At a nameless logging camp in Wexford county
Where the Manistee River ran

11 lumberjacks near the Garland Swamp
Found an animal they thought was a dog
In a playful mood, they chased it around
Till it ran inside a hollow log

A logger named Johnson grabbed him a stick
And poked around inside
Then the thing let out an unearthly scream and came out
And stood upright

None of those men ever said very much
About whatever happened then
They just packed up their belongings and left that night
Were never heard from again

It was ten years later in '97
When a farmer near Buckley was found
Slumped over his plow, his heart had stopped
There were dog tracks all around

Seven years past the turn of the century
They say a crazy old widow had a dream
Of dogs that circled her house at night
They walked like men and screamed

In 1917
A sheriff who was out a-walking
Found a driverless wagon and tracks in the dust
Like wolves had been a-stalking

Near the roadside, a four-horse team
Lay dead with their eyes open wide
When the vet finished up his examination
He said it looked like they died of fright

In '37 a schooner captain said
Several crew members had reported
A pack of wild dogs roaming Bowers Harbor
His story was never recorded

In '57 a man of the cloth
Found claw marks on an old church door
The newspaper said they'd been made by a dog
He'd have had to stood seven-foot-four

In '67 a van-load of hippies
Told a park ranger named Quinlan
They'd been awakened in the night by a scratch at the window
There was a dog-man looking in and grinning

Then in the summer of '87
Near Luthor, it happened again
At a cabin in the woods it looked like maybe
Someone had tried to break in

There were cuts round the doors could've only been made
By very sharp teeth and claws
He didn't wear shoes 'cause he didn't have feet
He walked on just two paws

Legends are born of stories told
Imagination without restriction
But what does a legend become
When the truth outruns the fiction?

The decades come, the decades go
People still swear they see
Interlochen, Reed City, Mackinaw
There was something looking back at me

And somewhere in the north woods darkness
A creature walks upright
And the best advice you may ever get
Is don't go out at night

See Also

• Dogman
• Michigan Dogman
• "The Legend II: The Sigma Story"