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by Douglas Malloch

When some one has slipped you the dirk in the dark,
When eyes that are loving are lies,
When some one you trusted has made you a mark,
And somehow the heart in you dies,
There's dirt for you, hurt for you, trouble enough
To shatter the faith of a man;
But don't ever think there is trouble so tough
That you can't overcome it—you can.

When living is losing its flavor to you,
When worry is making you old;
When there is no joy in the thing that you do
Nor truth in the thing you are told,
There's balm for you, calm for you, out in the wild,
There's hope for you up on the hill.
Get up in the timber and play like a child;
You can overcome it—you will.

Get up in the timber; the trail and the trees
Will make you a man in a day.
The smell of the soil and the breath of the breeze
Will blow all your troubles away.
There's pine for you, wine for you, hope for you there—
The sun and the moon and the star—
If the ways of the city are not on the square,
Get up in the woods—where they are.

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