A down the west the setting sun,
Sinks slow to rest, his journey run;
But ere he doffs his robes of light,
In bold defiance to the night,
He beams across the Inland Sea,
In radiance fair, to Manistee!

No paltry gift has come to thee,
Fair City of the Manistee!
Thy lakes and rivers, soil and wood,
Are held in trust to common good,
The woodman's axe has blazed the way
Where enterprises vast hold away.

But yesterday the Red Man's hand
Held sceptre o'er both lake and land;
The pine clad hills in verdant green,
Waved proudly o'er fair Nature's scene;
Goddess supreme, in varying moods,
The murmuring Spirit of the Woods.

Today the wealth of forest pours
Through Commerce's ever open doors,
And Progress stands in vesture bright
To garner with her hands of might
The fruits of forest, mine and soil,
By honest industry and toil.

Thy works are known to all the world
And high ye stand with flag unfurled,
And at your feet fair Nature pours
The richest gifts among her stores;
Our tribute then we bring to thee,
Salt City of the Inland Sea.

Clayton Donald Lee
1899
Salt City of the Inland Seas

Oh, the Northland is fair
And the Northland is free,
And verdant the sands
Of the swift Manistee.

To this land Mother Nature a happy mood brings;
In the midst of the forest the deep gurgling springs
Flow forth into brooks that, sparkling and cool,
Reflect sun and shadow in shallow and pool.

Neath their fern-laden banks they curve in and out,
The haunt of the grayling and color-flecked trout,
There are mirror-like lakes in whose limpid depths lie
Reflected the colors of woodland and sky.

Oh, the Northland is free,
And the Northland is fair,
Aglow with God's sunshine
And sweet with pure air.

Marie Nelson Lee
Published 1899
Salt City of the Inland Seas

I'm a lumberjack from Skilligalee,
In the State of Michigan.
And here and there and ev'rywhere,
They call me Timber Dan.

I'm as rough and ready as they come,
I take me likker straight,
And in a fight I can gouge and bite,
And lick anyone twice me weight.
I 'shoot the breeze' as I cut the trees,
And take things as they come,
Just give me three square meals a day
And a few little shots of rum.
I don't take guff from any 'scuff';
If you think you're a better man,
Kiss your gal goodbye and look at the sky
'Cause you're fightin' Timber Dan.
Me best friend is me strong peavee,
And me next best is me axe.
I can ride a log in rain or fog
From Boyne to Halifax.
I love the gals and they love me,
Whenever pay-day comes!
But after that you can bet your hat
I'm only one of the bums.
When logs are floatin' in the spring
Far down Big Manistee Creek,
And they need a man to break the jam,
And they need him mighty quick -
They spring me loose from the Calaboose
Pervidin' if they can -
But when it's broke, I'm the same old bloke...
I'm only Timber Dan.

Adapted from an editorial by Frank M. Sparks
of the Grand Rapids 'Herald'.