Each river and stream that flows through the West
Has been lauded and puffed by the tourist and press
Till one can imagine a haven of rest
Attached to each one for the lazy to bless
But southern Nebraska within a few years
Has grown hand and shoulders, including the tail
In culture and numbers beyond all her peers
Her progress pitched high on the go ahead scale.

And Richardson, Nemaha, Pawnee, and Gage
Have each in succession, leaped to the lead
While poster and paper, and pamphlet and page
Have been freely employed as a means to succeed
But Jefferson now prances boldly in front
And stands undisputed the first of the five
No longer considered the "Tition" and "Runt"
But royally, gracefully Queen of the Hive.

Here cabins and dugouts and fences and trees
Bespangle the landscape on valley and hill
And towns spring like magic, not built by degrees
But hand over fist with a vim and a will
The wheel of improvement spins rapidly round
Upturning the sod from circumference to hub
And where can a better exhibit be found
Than witnessed today as you pass along Cub.

Little Blue is a beauty, her valleys are good,
But Rose Creek is better and harder to beat
And when Rock Creek's inducements are once understood,
Few towns in the county will dare to compete
Where all is so good it is hard to advise
Take time by the forelock, Ah! there is the rub,
For prices now asked will undoubtedly rise
And you'll never regret if you anchor on Cub.

There's Sandy the Little and Sandy the Big
With plenty of timber and gravel and sand
With gorges and ridges and limestone to dig,
And one or two townships of number one land
Go see for yourselves and mark well as you go
But never squat down like a toad in a tub,
Till you try all the chances and glances at the show
Of the lands that are offered for sale on the Cub.

We rest on our record -- still happy to see
New faces, new farms and new dwellings arise
And ready to welcome with old fashioned glee
Each worker that visits and likes us and buys.
In pigs and potatoes and babies well fed
In crops and contentment -- in gas and in grub,
In soil and society largely ahead
Who wouldn't be proud of a foothold on Cub.