Sawmill

Yonder from the city is a land of verdant green,
Some say it's a treasure, but it turns the mothers mean.

There's a place in California,
As the logging people know,
Where the forest fell to plunder,
And the sawmill made it so!

Felling and refining, it requires an able team,
Flywheels blades a'whinning,
While the whistle blows its steam.

There's a place in California,
As the logging people know,
Where the forest fell to plunder,
And the sawmill made it so!

As the sweat pours off my brow line,
And the dust does make me choke,
See the trees all turn to pasture,
And the logs all turn to smoke.

There's a place in California,
As the logging people know,
Where the forest fell to plunder,
And the sawmill made it so!

The sawmill made it so!