THE LOGGER'S SONG.

Come, Boys, to the Logging be cheerfully jogging,

A day's work's before us, I trow;

The Fall is advancing, Sol's mild beams are dancing

On the brook, in the Fallow below.

Cheerily, cheerily, cheerily, O!

Let's log in the Fallow below.

The oxen are waiting, they need no fresh baiting,

Till dinner-time come for us all;

Now, while we are pushing, our work the new Bush in,

Let none into carelessness fall.

Steadily, steadily, steadily, O!

Let's work in the Fallow below.

The logs, thickly lying, our strength seem defying;

But forward, Boys! true courage show!

With hand-spikes unbending, this day we will spend in

The capture of each charred foe.

Speedily, speedily, speedily, O!

We'll capture each black, charred foe.

Now, lads, in your teaming, let's have no blaspheming!

Your oxen are patient and strong;

Our logging laborious need not be uproarious,

Nor lead us to anything wrong.

Decently, decently, decently, O!

Let's act, as the huge log-heaps grow.

When dinner-horn sounding, calls all that are found in

The Fallow to come to the Feast,

Let's guard‘ gainst satiety — eat with sobriety —

So shall our joys be increased.

Soberly, soberly, soberly, O!

We'll eat what our friends may bestow.

When day is departing, and we are all starting

For Home, with its sweet earthly bliss,

May thoughts of wives smiling be still reconciling

Our minds to hard labor, like this.

Then freely, most freely, still freely, O!

To all neighbors’ loggings we'll go.