FROM Yuba Dam to Yonkers the man of backbone conquers, where spineless
critters fail; all obstacles o’ercoming, he goes along a-humming, and
gathers fame and kale. No ghosts of failure haunt him, no grisly bogies
daunt him or make his spirits low; you’ll find him scratching gravel
wherever you may travel, from Butte to Broken Bow. From Winnipeg to
Wooster you’ll see this cheerful rooster, this model to all men;
undaunted by reverses he wastes no time in curses, but digs right in
again. His face is always shining though others be repining; you cannot
keep him down; his trail is always smoking while cheaper men are
croaking about the old dead town. From Humboldt to Hoboken he leaves his
sign and token in buildings high and grand; in factories that flourish,
in industries that nourish a tired, anaemic land. He brings the work to
toilers and fills with bread and broilers their trusty dinner pails; he
keeps the ripsaw ripping, the big triphammer tripping, the workman
driving nails. All honor to his noblets! We drink to him in goblets of
grapejuice rich and red—the man of spine and gizzard who hustles like a
blizzard and simply won’t be dead!
[Illustration]
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