In lovely Langlade County, near the center of this state,

Where mammoth crops of Timothy and Clovers vegetate

And big herds of dairy cattle in pastures “moo” and “low”

There’s a charming, lovely city, whose name is Antigo.

In the pleasant Spring Brook valley, where limpid waters flow

And start on their long journey to the Gulf of Mexico,

With a bright and crystal surface and shining sands below,

Meandering through the city of lovely Antigo.

Oh full well do I remember the days now past and gone,

When this was but a playing ground for rabbit and for fawn

And they gamboled in the moonlight, some five decades ago

In the pleasant Spring Brook valley, where now stands Antigo.

Oh quite well do I remember, when red deer, wolf and bear

Were wandering unmolested along the Big Eau Claire.

When mosquitoes sang in millions and porcupines moved slow

Throughout the Spring Brook valley, where now stands Antigo.

But those were days ere Antigo was e’en but a little child,

It was then a virgin forest and everything was wild.

But it grew up like a mushroom, continues now to grow.

Well may our state be proud of you, charming, young Antigo.

And where then was the playing ground, for rabbit, mole and fawns

The beholder now sees gardens and smiling, verdant lawns.

Where then stood the sugar maple, now big potatoes grow

In the fruitful Spring Brook valley, near pretty Antigo.

And where the fretful porcupine then climbed the maple trees,

Now, wide grain fields, bright and golden, nod in the summer breeze.

Where partridges then were drumming, now Leghorn roosters crow

Near that striving, pretty city, charming young Antigo.

Oh Antigo, Oh Antigo, fair city of the vale,

May your prospects ne’er be blighted, your progress never fail.

You may roam the country over from Maine to Idaho

And you’ll not find nicer people than dwell in Antigo.

Where then, the sluggish oxen trod along the crooked trail

And the sloppy, muddy “Tote Roads” throughout this pleasant vale

Now motor cars and bicycles are flitting to and fro

In the pleasant Spring Brook valley on streets of Antigo.

But the Spring Brook crystal waters move leisurely along

And they tell the same old story and sing the same old song,

Where there stood the sugar maples, now sawmill whistles blow

In the active Spring Brook valley, surrounding Antigo.