Ballads of a Cheechako
See, the austere sky, pensive above you,
Dons all her jewels to smile on your rest.
Children of Freedom, scornful of frontiers,
We who are weaklings honor your worth.
Lords of the wilderness, Princes of Pioneers,
Let's have a rouse that will ring round the earth.
The Ballad of the Northern Lights
One of the Down and Out--that's me. Stare at me well, ay, stare! Stare and shrink--say! you wouldn't think that I was a millionaire. Look at my face, it's crimped and gouged--one of them death-mask things; Don't seem the sort of man, do I, as might be the pal of kings? Slouching along in smelly rags, a bleary-eyed, no-good bum; A knight of the hollow needle, pard, spewed from the sodden slum. Look me all over from head to foot; how much would you think I was worth? A dollar? a dime? a nickel? Why, I'M THE WEALTHIEST MAN ON EARTH.
No, don't you think that I'm off my base. You'll sing a different tune If only you'll let me spin my yarn. Come over