Classic Poem

There's folks that like the good dry land, an' folks that like the sea,
But rock an' river, shoal an' sand, are good enough for me.
There's folks that like the ocean crest, an' folks that like the town—
But when I really feel the best is when the drive goes down.
So pole away, you river rats,
From landin' down to lake—
There's miles of pine to keep in line,
A hunderd jams to break!

There's folks that like to promenade along the boulevard,
But here's a spot I wouldn't trade for all their pavement hard;
Ten thousand lawgs by currents birled an' waters white that hiss—
Oh, where's the sidewalk in the world that's half as fine as this?
So leap away, you river rats,
From landin' down to sluice;
There's lawgs to run, there's peavey fun
To break the timber loose!

An' ev'ry rollin' of a stick that starts her down the stream
An' ev'ry bit of water quick where runnin' ripples gleam
Means gittin' nearer to the end, to wife an' babe an' rest—
An' ev'ry time you turn a bend the next bend looks the best.
Then peg away, you river rats,
From sluiceway down to mill—
Each rock you clear will bring you near
The house upon the hill!

There's folks that like the good dry land, an' folks that like the sea,
But rock an' river, shoal an' sand, are good enough for me.
There's folks that like the ocean crest, an' folks that like the town—
But when I really feel the best is when the drive goes down!