Hymn for the Timber Men
My country 'tis of thee
Sweet land of trickery
None can excel
Land where the forest dies
The land of props and ties
Land where few people buy
The goods they sell.
My Ozark country the
Land of the red oak tree
Land of the pine
I love thy old sawmills
That pay most grocery bills
Next to the whisky stills
And the "Moonshine."
Let sawdust choke the breeze
And ring from all the trees
The broad-axe' song.
Let every man awake
His share of ties to take
That buys the meals to make
The old corn pone.
Oh tie-man listen please
Before you cut more trees
And do not break
The laws the Living God
Spoke on the mountain sod
Long o'er this earth you trod
"Thou shalt not steal."
Written by Ida
May Schaffer
Spring of 1922