Here are mountains—wondrous mountains—

With a thousand tones of green;

Here are canyons—deep, dark gorges—

Lending myst'ry to the scene;

Here are crooked trains a-winding

Up and over through the view—

Santa Cruz has everything—

Everything, but you!

Here's the ocean—placid ocean—

With its emerald-tinted bay;

Here are breakers—mighty breakers—

Sending heavenward their spray;

Here is boating, here is fishing,

Here are abalones, too—

Santa Cruz has everything—

Everything, but you!

Here are flowers—gorgeous flowers—

Blooms that cheer us all year long;

Here are fruits from every climate,

In a land of smiles and song;

Here are big trees—giant redwoods—

Older then Assyria's Jew;

Santa Cruz has everything—

Everything, but you!

Here the cold winds—icy winter—

Finds no place to lay its head;

Here the hot winds—sultry summer—

Leaves a cooling breeze instead:

Then comes longing—silent longing—

When the sky's a golden hue;

Seems like here there's everything—

Everything, but you!

—Frank R. Bretlinger

According to local historian Sandy Lydon, Frank R. Brentlinger was a Socialist candidate for mayor of Santa Cruz in 1911. "Frank had a plurality in the primary, but lost in the run-off. The poem is not dated, though I would guess in the teens," Lydon writes.

Poet Robert Sward edits 'Local Poets, Local Inspiration,' which appears in this space the first week of each month.

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