The Giant of Sleep

The sleeping giant sleeps up North,
Reposing in a slumber grand,
“Will he ever wake?” you ask,
Or, frightened, “Will he ever stand?”

No, God made him, just a rock,
Just a solid sentry,
Just a guard to point us high,
Just a watchman for our city.

God made him a part of the Big Belt Range,
Blanketed with forest green,
He made him of sedimentary,
To sleep O’Brien Helena, easily seen.

In short, this man will never wake,
But God, his Maker, never sleeps.
And always, like this giant rock,
His watch He always, always keeps.