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There's some of us has this world's goods, An' some of us has none But all of us has got the woods, An' all has got the sun. So, settin' here upon the stoop, This patch o' pine beside, I never care a single whoopFer I am satisfied. Now, take the pine on yonder hill: It don't belong to me; The boss he owns the timberstill, It's there fer me to see. An', 'twixt the ownin' of the same An' smellin' of its smell, I've got the best of that there game, An' so I'm feelin' well. The boss in town unrolls a map An' proudly says, "It's mine." But he don't drink no maple sap An' he don't smell no pine. The boss in town he figgers lands In quarter-sections red; Lord! I just set with folded hands An' breathe 'em in instead. The boss his forest wealth kin read In cent an' dollar sign; His name is written in the deed But all his land is mine. There's some of us has this world's goods, An' some of us has none But all of us has got the woods, An' all has got the sun!
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