"Anent oak-wooded Contra Costa, Built on hills, stands San Francisco; Built on tall piles Oregonian, Deeply sunk in mud terraqueous, Where the crabs, fat and stupendous, Once in all their glory revelled; And where other tribes testaceous Felt secure in Neptune's kingdom; Where sea-sharks, with jaws terrific, Fled from land-sharks of the Orient; Not far from the great Pacific, Snug within the Gate called Golden, By the Hill called Telegraph, Near the Mission of Dolores, Close by the Valley of St. Ann's, San Francisco rears its mansions, Rears its palaces and churches; Built of timber, bricks, and mortar, Built on hills and built in valleys, Built in Beelzebubbian splendor, Stands the city San Francisco."