The Great White North is calling- s'hosh! it's got a lot to say-
Let us listen while it cracks its frozen jokes.
It's the land where folks rub noses, and they're known as Eskimoses,
And they call their donkeys little Eskimokes.

The Eskimos, like all the mo's, are very modest folks,
And they never shout the odds upon a steeple;
There's the Ikesteins and the Ricebergs, there's the Ginsbergs and the Icebergs,
For of all the tribes they are God's frozen people.

There's Big Chief Damdam Cuskus, with harpoons round his neck,
When he fails to catch a seal it gets his goat;
Like the others of his race. he wears a big flat face,
And he also has a nice flat-bottomed boat.

He stands just five feet when he stands, but never stands a drink,
Of sealskin camisoles he's made a hoard;
Still, he's rather out of luck when his sons all run amuck,
And his daughter runs a crown and anchor board.

The Princess Dogsbod Kitcat, in her necklace of wet fish,
Stands reclining on an iceberg in a storm;
She refuses to take cover, so she hikes to meet her lover,
Then she sits upon his bearskin for a warm.

The Great White North breeds He-men, and it breeds them good and hard,
And the natives ride barebacked on porcupines;
But there's one place beats the lotto, that's the coast of Boozum Blotto,
Where the cold's been known to freeze pawn brokers' signs.

In a tent all built of icecream sits a trapper all alone,
And he's sighing for a maiden from Nebraska.
He murmurs: 'How I love her, I could kiss the ground above her;
Will she ever whisper 'Yes'? Ah, well! Alaska.'

The trapper heaves a trapper's sigh, then with a trapper's curse
He flings the sigh upon the kitchen floor;
And when the poor old lubber goes to get a feed of blubber
He traps his ear inside the cupboard door.

And children coming home from school look in the open gate,
For they love to hear his sparks that fly like chaff;
They hear his roaring bellow turning all the snow flakes yellow,
And his Eskimoxford accent makes them laugh.

His wants are few: he never eats above two seals a day,
And simple joys his spirit can awaken;
Through life he wanders gaily, as he milks the sea cow daily,
And cod provides his liver and his bacon.

Outside his double-fronted hut he smokes a nice dried sprat
As he croons a tune and darns his fur golosh;
He never shows resentment, and he sighs with deep contentment,
While a walrus sits and curls his fine moustache.

The northern Spring breaks once a year, and fills his heart with joy
For the Springtime is the lover's time of hope;
But before he meets his lassie he must needs springclean his chassy,
So he goes to Hudson Bay to buy some soap.

At break of day he mounts his elk and bids his auk good-bye,
Then with heart as light as lead away he'll ride;
With his coat of finest ermine,.the inside lined with whalebone,
And his true and trusty swordfish by his side.

Have you ever heard the story of the sportsman Eskimo
When he shot the eider duck so soft and brown;
'By heavens, but she's a beauty,' said the sport with a sense of duty
As he eyed her up, and then he eiderdown.

In Iceland's greasy mountains, where Eskimos shoot whales,
And the penguin pens and pipes his plaintive song;
The storks are busy stalking and the auks have gone out hawking,
And the niff-niff bird is humming all day long.

'Tis the Great White North that's calling, Greenland; one, two, double Scotch,
Where airmen's helmets always are the mode,
The land where squaws and squatters all have high cheek bones and trotters,
It's the Great White North-just off the Great West Road.