Oh, how this pretty moon can pull
at a man’s heart, o’er here in Wisconsin;
as much as ebb the North Sea away
from the sandy shores of Holland,
and draw her back again, to a drowning!
That selfsame moon great-grandpa John
must have followed on the sea,
when he left the windmilled coast behind,
(and the Protestants) for lea, pulled
West to this Fox River Valley.