The Same Old Cub

The Same Old Cub.
10.4

Oh, fair city of the Golden Gate, you whom I loved so well.
Brought out of Paradise into chaos to the very brinks of hell.
Ruin and desolation faced her on every hund,
And sadly the news, traveled throughout the broad land:
Her people lying homeless on the bare cinder ground,
Mothers calling for their darlings, babes that were never found.

Columbia heard the news; then with her mighty hand
She throw the star of brotherhod acros the desert sands.
Her heart welled up in sorrow, she hur ried wealth and store
Out of the mighty nation to the broad Pholic’s shore.

California’s dearest cub was hard thrown upon her back,
Deep into the ashen till her ribs were we Bhigh cracked;
But the little bear that staggers to its hearty little feet
ls the same old cub of ’49 that does not know defeat.