The Logger's Boast

Come all you sons of freedom, throughout the state of Maine
 Come all you gallant lumbermen, and listen to my strain,
 On the banks of the Penobscot, where the rapid water flows
 We'll range the wild woods over and a lumbering we'll go
 And a lumbering we'll go
 We'll range the wild woods over and a lumbering we'll go
 When the white frost gilds the valleys and cold congeals the flood
 When many men have naught to do to earn their families bread
 When the swollen streams are frozen, and the hills are clad with snow
 We'll range the wild woods over and a lumbering we'll go
 And a lumbering we'll go
 We'll range the wild woods over and a lumbering we'll go
 When you pass through the dense city and pity all you meet
 To hear their teeth chattering as they hurry down the street
 But in red frost proof flannel we're encased from top to toe
 And we'll range the wild woods over and a lumbering we'll go
 And a lumbering we'll go
 We'll range the wild woods over and a lumbering we'll go
 The music of our burnished axe shall make the woods resound
 And many a lofty ancient pine will tumble to the ground
 But at night around our campfire we'll sing while rude winds blow
 And we'll range the wild woods over and a lumbering we'll go
 And a lumbering we'll go
 We'll range the wild woods over and a lumbering we'll go
 When our youthful days have ended we'll cease from winter's toils
 And each one through the summer warm will till the virgin soil
 We've enough to eat to drink to wear, content through life to go
 Then we'll tell our wild adventures and no more a lumbering go
 And no more a lumbering go
 We'll tell our wild adventures and no more a lumbering go