Fitzgerald leader enterprise and press. (Fitzgerald, Ben Hill County, Ga.) 1921-1964, 1922-03-16
THE YANKEE BEE HIVE
Or ''The City of Pines" in l895-'96

I live in the city of Fitzgerald,
The Great City of the South;
It's fame, and growth and wonders,
Has spread from mouth to mouth,
And l want to Write about 1t,
To tell our Northern friends,
An all that's interesting,
In my letter | will send.
Well, we began in Shack Town,
lust off Midway Pleasant.
And such another stopping place,
! shall never, never want,
I've hung our shawls and blankets,
About some small oak trees.
And spread our quilts upon the
ground,
If we were up North, we'd freeze
For it was now November,
The seventh day in the morn;
When seventy of those Yankees,
Who all up north were born,
Who squatted in Fitzgerald,
For a little peice of land,
And found their great possessions
Were naught but Georgia sand.
Well, you ought to see the lumber,
Just lay around in piles,
You'd wonder what they're going
to do,
In another little while;
Well up it goes in houses,
The saw and hammers ring;
And soon lots of little stanties.
Are built all in a string
Well, soon Shack-Town was throng
ing,
With wondering women and men,
The campfires blazing brightly,
No rest for us then, -
For it was like bee hive,
That had been beaten like drum;
Each was adding to the music,
With it humming, humming, hum.
1t was forest wilderness,
When we struck this neck of woods,
The stately pine was monarch,
But some say that is good.
And some, will take exceptions,
And say that they wish that they
Had never come down South,
And were not going to stay.
Well, the Southern people peeped
around
To see this Yankee Hive.
They found the bees all working,
For the Yankees were alive.
And from early morn till evening,
The hammers how they rung;
And for every Yank among them,
Was Home, Sweet Home they sung.
We'll, Christmas came on wings this
year,
For no winter had we seen,
And so they built bower,
And covered with evergreen.
An outdoor bower for dancing,
Who ever, heard the like,
1t was so very different,
From the northern snow fields white.
Then don't you think the people,
Made December in july,
And had fireworks and crackers,
And bombs to reach the sky
A fourth OF July celebration,
To us Northern people seemed;
The year, had been turned backward,
Or we had been in a dream.
They chopped the trees and cleared
the land
The stately pine laid low,
For all were very anxious,
Tomorrow will mark the begin
From early morn till evening,
You could hear the woodman's ak:
The echo it resounded,
rsh its whack, whack, whacks.
We'll, now year has gone by,
And, | will note the change,
There has many funny incident,
That's happened and some strange,
But Shack-Town, it has vanished,
And here instead we find,
A beautiful growing city,
The City of the Pines.
Inhabitants, ten thousand,
OF people here they say;
Some living in fine houses,
While some have gone away.
But the daily trains they bring more
OF wondering people here.
They behold with admiration.
The Improvements of year.
The Bee Hive still is humming,
With energy and pluck,
The Yankees still are coming,
They want to try their luck.
In Fitzgerald they will settle,
And soon in future time;
Will be heard the factory's rattle,
In the City of the Pines.