We’ve come to see the children of the ancient northern timber.
    Step out and haul away, we’re bound for Spanish River.
Listen to the silence of the forest in the winter.
    Step out....
Following the footsteps of a thousand nameless men,
Who spent the winter lumbering; it wasn’t silent then.
The white pine was piled on shore, to wait the breath of spring,
And to the tune of axe and saw you’d hear the voices sing:
    Step out....
    Step out...

The icy wind that’s in your face would make a husky shiver.
    Step out....
On my sled I’ve got my bag and tent and stove and dinner.
    Step out....
There are those who still recall the days of giant pines,
And old Baptiste who ran the drive and men who strived,
To work the weary winter away, and dream of when in spring,
They’d come down to Sudbury town and make the taverns ring! (with)
    Step out....
    Step out...

It’s early in the morning and my tent is frosted silver.
    Step out....
I light the stove and watch the firelight make the crystals glitter.
    Step out....
We walk upon the Spanish shore and think upon the day,
When showshoes were for working men and not for those at play,
And though the giant pines have disappeared into the past,
May this wood grow as it should and then forever last!
    Step out....
    Step out....