Monday, February 4, 2013

The Ryme of The Big Swede Logger

By da yumpin' yiminy yesus,
Aye yust kum back fr'm town,
Ay've seen da voman's fayces
In da spots off ill renown;
Ay've hire da fastes' taxies-
Had da best in effry house,
Got drunk on beer an' viskey-
Yust ass cray-see ass a louse;
An' aye tol' da fancey vomans
How ve log out in da voods-
How us Swenska super-humans,
Us alone produce da goods.
An' aye tol' da pretty maiden
How ve log in vinter's snow,
Wen aye kum out here from Swaden
Yust fifteen years ago.

An' wen firs' aye kum dis come dis countree
From ma native Swenska land, 
Da language here seem funny
An' wuss hard to understand':
For dey had a drink at mealtime,
An' dey call it koffeeplease
But it taste yust like like da coffee
Back in Sweden, cross da seas.
An' winniger-yug aye learn to say.
Wen fifteen years had gone
Dey changed da name, an' so today-
Dey call it demi-yon.
Dey might fool me wi' dere talkin'-
Say ayme domb an' green, an shy:
Like an eagle's born to fly.

W'en first aye hit da yungle,
To me da forreman said:
You'll neffer make a bungle,
Iff you'll only youse yer head.
Go out an' wrestle schokers,
An' be careful w'ere ya yump;
But da riggin' crew were yokers,
An' so aye schoked a stump:
Aye used ma head to stop da huke
Dat floated tru' da air-
An' here's da boomp-yust take a look,
Protrudin' t'ru' ma hair.
Ay'me wise now, since aye have learned
My head's to hold my hat,
An' aye get along vit' all concerned 
When aye youse it yust fer dat.

At first aye tank dis countree
Wuz yust scum an' froth an' foam,
An' aye miss da Swenska yentry,
An' da customs back at home.
Here ya doff yer hat to no one,
Fer ya find yet yust ass good
As da banker, or da showman,
Or da splitter of the wood.
Here are land vere winding inlets,
Vit da moutain walls are shored!
Reflecting golden sunsets-
Like ma native Swenska fjord.
Ma adpoted land of freedom,
From da Rio Grand to Nome,
Fer ay've said good-bye to Swaden,
An'aye tank aye don't go home.

By: Rober E. Swanson
Rhymes of A Lumberjack

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