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.