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Well, the world has seven wonders that the trav'lers always tell, |
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Some gardens and some towers, I guess you know them well, |
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But now the greatest wonder is in Uncle Sam's fair lang, |
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It's the big Columbia River and the big Grand Coulee Dam. |
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She heads up the Canadian Rockies where the rippling waters glide, |
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Comes a-roaring down the canyon to meet the salty tide, |
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Of the wide Pacific Ocean where the sun sets in the West |
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And the big Grand Coulee country in the land I love the best. |
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In the misty crystal glitter of that wild and wind ward spray, |
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Men have fought the pounding waters and met a watery grave, |
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Well, she tore their boats to splinters but she gave men dreams to dream |
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Of the day the Coulee Dam would cross that wild and wasted stream. |
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Uncle Sam took up the challenge in the year of 'thrity-three, |
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For the farmer and the factory and all of you and me, |
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He said, "Roll along, Columbia, you can ramble to the sea, |
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But river, while you're rambling, you can do some work for me." |
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Now in Washington and Oregon you can hear the factories hum, |
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Making chrome and making manganese and light aluminum, |
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And there roars the flying fortress now to fight for Uncle Sam, |
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Spawned upon the King Columbia by the big Grand Coulee Dam. |
