We’re snowshoeing down from the north of
Katahdin,
See here! Yum, yum!
Here’s a tole to tease Maud to come into the
garden
—These rich, rosy lumps o’ spruce gum.
Our fires are dowsed in the lonesome old camps,
We’ve left them to wolves and the foxes and
damps.
The trail of our snowshoes lies snakin’ behind,