Good editor Dana--God bless him, we say--
 Will soon be afloat on the main,
 Will be steaming away
 Through the mist and the spray
 To the sensuous climate of Spain.

Strange sights shall he see in that beautiful land
 Which is famed for its soap and its Moor,
 For, as we understand,
 The scenery is grand
 Though the system of railways is poor.

For moonlight of silver and sunlight of gold
 Glint the orchards of lemons and mangoes,
 And the ladies, we're told,
 Are a joy to behold
 As they twine in their lissome fandangoes.

What though our friend Dana shall twang a guitar
 And murmur a passionate strain;
 Oh, fairer by far
 Than those ravishments are
 The castles abounding in Spain.

These castles are built as the builder may list--
 They are sometimes of marble or stone,
 But they mostly consist
 Of east wind and mist
 With an ivy of froth overgrown.

A beautiful castle our Dana shall raise
 On a futile foundation of hope,
 And its glories shall blaze
 In the somnolent haze
 Of the mythical lake del y Soap.

The fragrance of sunflowers shall swoon on the air
 And the visions of Dreamland obtain,
 And the song of "World's Fair"
 Shall be heard everywhere
 Through that beautiful castle in Spain.