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A Woman, A Dog, And A Walnut Tree

by Pat O'Cotter

This Land is the orphan kiddie

Of the group with their stars in the Flag,

And it's looked on Outside as an alien,

Where its treatment makes honest men gag.

It's treated the same as the harlot

Who barters her body for pelf

And carries it home to her master

And is told to look after herself.

Of course we're an orphan, adopted

When cast off by the great Russian Bear

And our lot's been the lot of an orphan

And we've had a "stage orphan's" care.

Our coal land was grabbed by our Uncle,

Our copper and fur by the Jews,

While another gang took all our salmon

And corrupted our natives with booze.

Sam gave us an Army Commission

And told it to build us a Trail,

But all that Sam gave was permission--

He didn't come thru with the kale.

Now a trail in Alaska costs money

And when Dick tries to get a bill thru

Some jackass from Maine reads the figures

And "moves the amount cut in two."

Our Uncle Sam owns all the cables,

And the prices he gets are a sin,

It costs more for a word to Seattle

Than it does from Salt Lake to Berlin.

Our coast line is rugged and broken,

A menace to each ship that sails,

But Sam has no money for coast lights,

They get the same treatment as trails.

And Alaska is some husky orphan,

We can reach from the Gulf to B.C.,

We could stand with one foot in Kansas

While the other was washed by the sea.

We're allowed only one voice in Congress,

And that one bereft of a vote,

And has to get some one's permission

Ere he loose a protest from his throat.

Sam gave us a group legislative,

But barred them the making of laws,

They could only memorialize Congress

And give it the reasons and cause.

The cry of the world is for Home Rule

Yet imported fools crowd our bench,

And some of their mining decisions

Send up to high Heaven their stench.

Sam made us quit gambling, that's all right,

But one thing that nobody knows

Is why he allowed a bone head from Georgia

Hang the cr'pe on our own picture shows.

We're all hedged about with restrictions

And, Sam, won't you in us confide

Why some of your damphool ideas

Are not tried out on some one outside?

This Land's not the land of the weakling

And the men up here know what we need,

And we're sick of your bunch from the Outside

Who's only incentive is greed.

We've stood for Pinchot's conservation

And we've stood for your carpet-bag horde

Who have grabbed off the jobs in Alaska

As a sort of political reward.

But, Sam, take a tip from a Roughneck,

Go slow now and don't crowd your hand

Or some day you may find that the orphan

Has quit creeping and learned how to stand.

Don't make us the goat for the theories

Advanced by some government cog,

And don't use this land as a station

For trying things out on the dog.

We gaze o'er the line of the Yukon

As we're watching our neighbors at play

And we wonder why Our Uncle Sammy

Don't treat his Alaskans that way.

We look at their broad graded highways

And then at our own half blazed trails

And, Sam, it comes damned nigh to envy

When we think of their thrice a week mails.

They don't know the word conservation,

Their resources, all theirs to use,

And when they ask their Uncle to help them

Their Uncle don't often refuse.

Their Uncle has helped them develop,

Furnished work there for men who were broke,

And, Sam, when it comes to Coast Lights

They make ours look like a joke.

But in spite of it all, Sam, we love you,

We love every thread in the Flag,

We love every stream in Alaska,

We love every cliff, every crag.

We're not like the Woman or Dog, Sam,

And we're not like the Walnut Tree

Cause we want to be loved in return, Sam,

And, Sam, you are blind, or you'd see.

Old English Proverb:

"A Woman, a Dog, and a Walnut Tree

The more you beat them the better they'll be."