There’s a county famed in story,
It is famed for fish and game

It is in north Wisconsin
And Oneida is its name.

’Tis a land where summer tourists,
To ease their pains and aches

Go to suffer solid comfort,
In the lovely Land O’ Lakes.

’Tis a land where pleasure seekers,
In the good old summer time,

Repair for health and pleasure,
In a mild and temperate clime.

’Tis a land of verdant beauty,
Free from famines and earth quakes

With a carpet of pine needles,
In the lovely Land O’ Lakes.

Ye citizens of large cities
Leave business cares behind.

Forget your woes and sorrows,
That so oft affect mankind.

Put some gas into your lizzies,
Pack up your tents and stakes

And hasten to Rhinelander,
In the lovely Land O’ Lakes.

Bid adieu to the sky scrapers,
To the movies and hotels

And hasten to the forest
Where the God of nature dwells.

Leave behind the city noises,
Their numerous frauds and fakes

And hie northward to the wild wood
In the lovely Land O’ Lakes.

You can rest in shady bowers,
Beneath the silver moon

And listen to the voices
 Of bullfrog and of loon,

You can walk the sandy beaches
 Where the tiny wavelet breaks

And scent the wild pond lilies,
 In the lovely Land O’ Lakes.

You may cross the sparkling streamlets,
’Mong springs that never fail,

Where the hodag loved to wander
Along the forest trail.

When you land a mammoth muskie,
 You’ll forget your pains and aches

And bless the day you motored
 To the lovely land O’ Lakes.

And as your boat is moving,
 Past lily pads and grass,

’Twill be a joyous moment,
 When you hook a big, black bass.

You’ll discard all deep sea fishes
 All haddocks and all hacks,

When you feed on bass and muskies,
In the famous Land O’ Lakes.

Red deer will bleat around you
 In the evening, calm and still

And you’ll hear the screech owl’s music,
Upon the distant hill.

You’ll hear the night wind sighing,
 Among the trees and brakes,

Lulling you to peaceful slumber,
In the lovely Land O’ Lakes.

You’ll hear soft zephyrs whispering,
 Among the stately pines

And tread gently over mosses,
 And crawl through tangled vines.

You’ll sleep on beds of balsam boughs,
 Without any fear of snakes,

In the wild and virgin forest
 In the lovely Land O’ Lakes.

And when your outing’s ended
 And you are homeward bound,

You’ll say that you have lately trod
 On consecrated ground.

And when you reach your domiciles
And chew your chops and steak,

You’ll sigh for bass and muskie
And the distant Land O’ Lakes.

You’ll tell your male and female friends
Your uncles and your aunts,

About the lovely lakelets
Where the golden sunbeams dance.

And they’ll exclaim with one accord,
“We’ll pack our tents and stakes

And fly next up northward,
To the lovely “Land O’ Lakes.”