Run thousands of miles, sparkling out as they go;
Where the green waving forests shall echo our call,
As wide as old England, and free to us all;
Where the prairies, like seas where the billows have roll’d,
Are broad as the kingdoms and empires of old;
And the lakes are oceans in storms or in rest—
Away, far away, to the land of the West.
To the West! to the West, &c.
To the West! to the West! there is wealth to be won;
A forest to clear is the work to be done;