You may say they won’t grow, and say they’ll decay⁠— + 

Say it again till you’re sick of the say, + 

Get up on your ear, blow your blaring bazoo + 

And hire a hall to proclaim it; and you + 

May stand on a stump with a lifted hand + 

As a pine may stand or a redwood stand, + 

And stick to your story and cheek it through. + 

But I point with pride to the far divide + 

Where the Snake from its groves is seen to glide⁠— + 

To Mariposa’s arboreal suit, + 

And the shaggy shoulders of Shasta Butte, + 

And the feathered firs of Siskiyou; + 

And I swear as I sit on my marvelous hair⁠— + 

I roll my marvelous eyes and swear, + 

And sneer, and ask where would your forests be + 

To-day if it hadn’t been for me! + 

Then I rise tip-toe, with a brow of brass, + 

Like a bully boy with an eye of glass; + 

I look at my gum sprouts, red and blue, + 

And I say it loud and I say it low: + 

“They know their man and you bet they’ll grow!” + 