In the State of Massachusetts, in the good old town of Lynn,

There's a famous range of ledges as eye hath ever seen;

Two hundred feet, the highest point, looms up this rugged block,

And is known throughout New England as Old High Rock.

Upon this noted eminence, far o'er the ocean blue

A hundred miles of landscape the eye can clearly view.

Rocks, mountains, seas and rivers the painter here could chalk,

And sketch a scene the world to vie, from Old High Rock.

Within three leagues of Boston, and of Nahant four miles,

This towering rock rears up its head and many an eye beguiles,

And though old glorious Bunker its grandeur fain would mock,

It hasn't half the real worth of Old High Rock.

Beneath the very shadow of this monument of fame,

In by-gone years, as history tells, there lived one noted dame;

And tales of sad disaster the faint heart to shock,

Has Molly Pitcher told beside this Old High Rock.

And many are the legends connected with this mound,

And superstitious multitudes still think it hallowed ground;

And myriad Indian warriors in olden time did flock,

As Sagamore sent forth command from Old High Rock.

It is in contemplation to rear upon this height,

A telescope of mighty power, to view the stars by night;

While with the planets in their course we'll hold familiar talk,

And gaze into heavenly worlds from Old High Rock.

When all is decorated and fitted to the mind,

A snug retreat from business cares the visitor will find;

The cottage door stands open to all the friends who knock,

And welcome makes you feel at home at Old High Rock.

Believing in the promises that all the sons of toil

Have an equal right and title to the products of the soil,

This, in the deed 'tis written:  "Earth is common stock,"

And all the world shall own a share in Old High Rock.