Saw the hemlock forests falling, lowered by the hand of man.
Yes, I’ve seen some doings surely, seen the redskins on Champlain,
Seen them fight on land and water, seen the bodies of the slain,
Seen the waves of Lake George glisten, heard the yells on Richelieu,
Heard the scalp dance, seen the torture, viewed the crackling flames,—“A-hoo!”
Yes, I’m just old Whiskey Jack, plain old blue jay, gray and black,
Canadians know me, for I bring news of game and coming Spring,
What’s a woodland camp without me? what’s a fire without my call?
True, I’m just a plain old ranger, but—Egad—I’m loved by all!