It's known down below as The Land of the Snow,
Or, The Country that God forgot.

It stands apart by the Northern Pole,
Unfinished, forgotten, alone,
And no man's hand has won this land,
And no man calls it his own.
The country is made up of odds and ends,
Unfinished mountain, and swamp and lake,
Stuff that couldn't be used when the earth was fused;
If you want it, it's yours to take.

"I'll take this plot," the Devil quoth,
"For I like your description well,
Yes, I'll take this place and I'll mould a race
That will be a credit to hell."
Then he whistled an imp from the uttermost part
And they dropped as the comets whirled
Past the white baked stars, past Venus and Mars
To the unfinished part of the world.

He landed at last on Denali's crest
And he gazed on his acres wide--
Barren and bleak, from each mountain peak
And swamp to the Arctic's tide.
The Devil grinned as he stood and gazed
Said he, "This is just what I need,
It's the place of my plan, for the downfall of man
Where I'll change his ambition to greed."