Our Land


A ship sailed over the blue, salt sea,

For a man, Columbus called,

Had thought that the world was round, and he

Of the old ideas had palled.



So, in fourteen hundred and ninety-two,

He sailed across from Spain,

And found our continent so new--

The "land beyond the main."







But jealousies and rivalries

And bickerings begun,

And Christopher Columbus now

With grief was overborne.



Americus Vespucius soon

Our shores came sailing round,

And stole the naming of the land

Columbus sought and found;



While he, Columbus, lay in chains,

And died in sore distress;

Yet won for us who tread his land,

A lasting blessedness.





* * * * *





Young I-know is saucy and pert,

And thinks himself wondrously wise;

But I-know, the second, steps in all so curt,

And you'd think that each might lose his eyes.



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