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;