FLOTSAM

TRYING

THE NEW MASTER

PROSPECTING

THE WOMAN THAT YOU PASS BY

WHY

AND STILL I LIKE ALASKA





THE BIRTH OF THE LAND

For a thousand years the Devil crouched
On the white hot flags of hell:
For a thousand years the Devil cursed
The imps that had chained him well;
For a thousand years the Devil sulked
And planned with his hell-trained brain
Of the things he'd do, when his term was thru,
And freed from the blistering chain.