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HERE'S a breeze about the mountain, it is singin' in the trees A song to mock the little men who choose to live at ease, Or play at toil or pleasure where their fellows crowd and push; But put my good axe in my hand and leave me in the bush— And it's: Hey, boy! Hi, boy! Heave it in the wood! Oh, the green bush is around us, and the smell of it is good. The great bush is before us, and a giant's task to do. And hearty men and hefty men alone may see it thro'. So it's: Ho, boys! Hey, boys ! Swing it with a will! For the saws are howlin' hungry for logs, down at the mill.

The hope for man is honest work, an' out-o'-doors his place, The good brown earth beneath him an' the clean breeze in his face; The work for man is with his hands, his muscles strong as steel, When health an' strength within him make him feel as he should feel.