| I was born on a farm down in Iowa |
| I pulled the tall corn and I worked in the hay |
| Got caught by a girlie but she set me free |
| I heard the timber out in Oregon calling me |
| Hey won’t you tell me Mr. Lumberjack |
| Is it one for forward and three for back? |
| Is it two for stop and four for go? |
| Boy, ask the whistle punk, I don’t know |
| I learned this fact from a logger named Ray |
| You don’t cut timber on a windy day |
| Stay out of the woods when the moisture’s low |
| Or you ain’t gonna live to collect your dough |
| Hey won’t you tell me Mr. Lumberjack |
| Is it one for forward and three for back? |
| Is it two for stop and four for go? |
| Boy, ask the whistle punk, I don’t know |
| Well, you work in the woods from morn 'til night |
| And you laugh and you sing and you cuss and you fight |
| And on Saturday night you go to Eugene |
| And on a Sunday morning, your pockets are clean |
| Hey won’t you tell me Mr. Lumberjack |
| Is it one for forward and three for back? |
| Is it two for stop and four for go? |
| Boy, ask the whistle punk, I don’t know |
| Well you work in the winter in the rain and the sleet |
| And in the summer you darn near die from the heat |
| And at night you’re so tired that you sleep in your socks |
| And you dream of Paul Bunyan and his big blue ox |
| Hey won’t you tell me Mr. Lumberjack |
| Is it one for forward and three for back? |
| Is it two for stop and four for go? |
| Boy, ask the whistle punk, I don’t know |