From the Canadian Camp Menu , 1922
Poem by: Frank H. Oastler M.D.
Dedicated to the Canadian Camp
Oh, give me a bit of the great outdoors
Is all that I ask of you,
Where I may do whatever I like
And like whatever I do.
Where the sky is the boundary up above
And the earth is the measure below,
And the trail starts on where the sun comes up
And ends where the sun sinks low.
Where the wind blows sweet as a baby’s breath,
And the sun shines bright as its eyes,
And the showers come and the showers go
As the tears when the little one cries.
And the brook runs merrily through the glade,
Singing its gladdening song,
And the pine trees murmur their soothing sighs,
Still bearing that song along.
Yes, carry me back to the lake’s white shores,
With its deer and its lily pad,
Where the loon calls out ‘mid the moonbeams bright
Through the mist on the waters sad.
Let me hear once more the elk’s far cry
As it sweeps through the forest deep,
Where silence hangs as over the dead
At rest in eternal sleep.
I’ll pitch my tent by some lonesome pine,
By the rippling water’s edge,
With the great outdoors as my garden,
And the willows ‘round as my hedge.
And, surrounded by pretty flowers
That perfume the gentle breeze,
I’ll idle away the whole long day
In the shade of my old pine trees.
And I’ll watch on yonder mountain
The colors change with the day,
And I’ll follow each shadow a-creeping
So silently over the way.
And then give thanks to the God above
And in gratitude I’ll pause,
And I’ll love, not hate, each care that comes
In that great big home – Outdoors.