And shiver to think of a saw-buck now.
But ah, old fellows, you can’t deny
You hanker a bit for the times gone by,
When the toil of the tasks that filled the day
Made bright by contrast our bits of play.
Oh, grateful the hour at set of sun,
When the tea was hot, and the biscuits “done;”
When chocking his axe in the chopping-block,
Dad sung, u Knock off, boys, five o’clock.”
Now tell me truly, ye wearied men,