How kindly true hearts welcome us, our wives and children too,

We will spend with these the summer, and once more a lumbering go;

And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering we will go,

We will spend with these the summer, and once more a lumbering go.

And when upon the long-hid soil the white Pines disappear,

We will cut the other forest trees, and sow whereon we clear;

Our grain shall wave o'er valleys rich, our herds bedot the hills,

When our feet no more are hurried on to tend the driving mills;

Then no more a lumbering go, so no more a lumbering go,

When our feet no more are hurried on to tend the driving mills.