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Sitka Spruce
By D.E. Hatt
Sitka Spruce is fine of grain,
And Sitka Spruce is tough,
To carry weight and stand the strain
There grows no better stuff;
It thrives upon Queen Charlotte Isles
And lifts its head on high,
When summer’s sun upon it smiles
Or winter rages by.
Sitka Spruce is straight and clear,
And Sitka Spruce is light,
That aviator knows no fear
It girds into the fight;
For borne on wings that tire not,
He hurtles on the foe
Until he finds a vital spot
And sends him down below.
Sitka Spruce the Allies need,
And Sitka Spruce must get;
The loggers answer: “With all speed
This need shall now be met.”
And when the logger speaks his mind
It is not empty boast—
The Allied nations soon shall find
The thing they need the most.
From Sitka Spruce: Songs of Queen Charlotte Islands, R.P. Latta and Company Printers, 1918 (Don Stewart collection)