Classic Poem

I.

The Pine shall be the Switzer's glee,
The Pine shall be his " chanson, "
The Pine that takes an awkward Point
For Foemen to advance on.
The Pine it was the Ragged Staff
That took an iron lance on
When Charles of Burgundy was pricked
In such a haste from Grandson!

II.

The Pine-tree bred the Switzer bold,
The Pine-tree is his Dwelling,
His Hearth it cracks with Pine-tree Stacks —
And what is sweeter smelling?
The Pine-tree is his jagged Hedge,
His hollow trough and Fountain;
The Pine it is the Switzer's Sledge
To horse him down the Mountain.

III.

Of Pine are his haymaking Prong,
His Steeple and his Flagon;
Of swarthy Pine shall be his Song,
While four Stems make a Waggon!
The brown Cones for his Fruit descend,
The red Trunks for his Harvest.
O Switzer, with a Pine to Vend
There's little fear thou starvest,
For into Bears thy patient Friend
(And cuckoo-clocks) thou carvest!

IV.

As the round-shoulder'd Hero clumps
About his steep possession
With something of a Pine-tree Stump's
Dispassionate Expression,
O Switzer, seldom in the Dumps,
To thee I'll make confession:
Thy Gains are Wood, thy Brains are Wood,
At wooden Pins thou Poundest;
But if the Heart in thee is Wood
'Tis Pine, and of the Soundest!

V.

The Pine it is the Switzer's Cheer,
The best this World affords him,
And when his Lodging's ended here
The Pine it takes and Boards him —
They nail him in the friendly Pine
When Slumber sound rewards him.