You may think, my dear, when you grow quite old
You have left camp days behind
But I know the scent of wood smoke
Will always call to mind
Little fires at twilight
And trails you used to find

You may think some day that you have quite grown up
And feel so wordly wise
But suddenly from out of the past
A vision will arise
Of merry folk with brown, bare knees
And laughter in their eyes

You may live in a house built to your taste
In the nicest part of town
But someday for your old camp togs
You’d change your latest gown
And trade it all for a balsam bed
Where the stars all night look down

You may find yourself grown wealthy
Have all that gold can buy
But you’d toss aside a fortune
For days ‘neath an open sky
With sunlight and blue water
And white clouds sailing high

For once you have been a camper
Then something has come to stay
Deep in your heart forever
Which nothing can take away
And heaven can only be heaven
With a camp in which to play