The Pole at Stokes’ Store

This good old world may fume and fret

     This good old world may swear and tear;

Inhabitants may threat and bet,

     In Gungawamp they do not care.

They’ve talked it over day by day,

     And nights till ten, and even more;

Who found the Pole and got away

     They’ve settled it in Stokes’ store.

It was no easy thing to do,

     And arguments rose ceiling high;

The Cow Club split, almost in two,

     And blood was in each member’s eye.

Tobacco smoke rose roll on roll,

     And chewers chewed as ne’er before;

But who was victor at the pole

     Was settled there in Stokes’ store.

The village is serene again,

     Work is resumed, the danger o’er;

The place for scientific men

     Is in a chair at Stoke’s store.

Why waste your money and your time

     With instruments and arctic lore;

Why not have arguments sublime

     For settlement in Stokes’ store?

Sept. 22, ‘09