We want no better pastime than to chase the buck and doe;

O! we'll range the wild woods over, and a lumbering we will go;

And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering, &c.

The music of our burnished ax shall make the woods resound,

And many a lofty ancient Pine will tumble to the ground;

At night, ho! round our good camp-fire we will sing while rude winds blow:

O! we'll range the wild woods over while a lumbering we go;

And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering, &c.

When winter's snows are melted, and the ice-bound streams are free,

We'll run our logs to market, then haste our friends to see;