The Farmer of North Bend.

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Tune — "The Poachers."

The Farmer of North Bend, my boys,
The Farmer of North Bend!
Let every Freeman peal his voice,
As if the skies to rend!
No lust of power, no love of gold,
No selfish, sordid end,
Could ever for a moment hold
The Farmer of North Bend.
The Farmer of North Bend, my boys!
The Farmer of North Bend!

Hark! hark! our mourning country cries
For National Reform!
The Patriot Farmer greets our eyes —
And every heart grows warm.
Quick as he hears the trusting call,
His helping hands extend;

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Then speed him! hail him! one and all —
The Farmer of North Bend —
The Farmer of North Bend, my boys!
The Farmer of North Bend!

Though Malice, impotent and blind,
His well-earned fame assail,
His shameless slanderers shall find,
Their vilest efforts fail.
The people, host of all the land,
In thunders shall defend
The noble chief, with whom they stand —
The Farmer of North Bend!
The Farmer of North Bend, my boys!
The Farmer of North Bend!