THE WANGAN CAMP
The wangan camp! *
The wangan camp!
Did ye ever go a-shoppin’ in the wangan
camp?
You can get some plug tobacker or a lovely
corn-cob pipe,
* The wangan is the woods store that most of the
Maine lumber camps maintain.
Or a pair o’ fuzzy trowsers that was picked
before they’s ripe.
They fit ye like your body had a dreadful
lookin’ twist;
There is shirts that’s red and yaller and with
plaids as big’s your fist;
There are larrigans and shoe-packs for all
makes and shapes of men,
As yaller as the standers of a Cochin China
hen,
The goods is rather shop-worn and purraps a
leetle damp,
—But you take ’em or you leave ’em—either
suits the wangan camp.
The wangan camp!
The wangan camp!
There is never any mark-downs at the
wangan camp.
The folks that knit the stockin’s that they sell
to us, why say—
They’d git as rich as Moses on a half of what
we pay.
I haven’t seen the papers, but I jedge this
Bower war
Is a-raisin’ Ned with prices—they are wust I
ever saw.
I was figg’rin’ t’other ev’nin’ what I’d bought,
—by Jim, I’ll bet
That a few more pairs o’larrigans will fetch me
out in debt.
For I’ve knowed a stiddy worker to go out as
poor’s a tramp
’Cause he traded som’at reg’lar at the com-
p’ny’s wangan camp.
The wangan camp!
The wangan camp!
They tuck it to you solid at the wangan
camp.