A miner in California mine, For his distant home he did repine, In a far off Eastern state,
Strange incidents do happen ever On the famed Niagara river, This thought to mind it now recalls
Poets they do pursue each theme, Under a gentle head of steam, Save one who needed fierce fire on,
Here industry is not in vain, For we have bounteous crops of grain, And you behold on every field
Of Kentucky's great hunter bold Old Daniel Boone oft tales are told, Of wild beasts he had no fear,
We have here a sight as fair As bonnie Doon or banks of Ayr, Like modest worth meandering slow
An English youth to Canada came, A labourer, John Roe by name, His little wealth had made him bold,
Three years ago my vessel lay In a port of Hudson Bay, I started off for the trading post,
In a great city hospital There lay poor Mary Crosby small, She had no friends her heart to cheer,
Johnston he is an engineer, He always looks if track is clear, For he hath a keen eagle eye,
Canadians oft by light of moon Love to go a hunting coon, But this our tale it is no yarn,
For to save life one great solver Would be to prohibit the revolver, Weapon of coward and of bully,
Genius of Dryden and of Pope, Both did take a mighty scope, The first he virgil did translate,
Once on a time there lived a duck, And by its fishing it did thrive; So one day it longed to suck
Wilmot of fish culutre fame, To this tale he lends his name, A pair of eagles built their nest
O'er various counties of the north, When cruel order did go forth, For to destroy many a home,
A hawk while soaring on the wing, O'er a tiny sparkling spring, Beheld a sleek and beauteous mink,
This is a tale, but it is truth, Of maiden lady named Ruth, She owned a small four acre farm,
In ancient times we have been told A goose did lay an egg of gold, She did produce one every day,
When the Chinese did rebel, Gordon alone he could them quell, With justice they his name revere,
Once on a time a lady quarrelled With the witty Douglass Jerrold, Because that he had been so bold,
A poor man's horse it ran away, Soon man upon the roadside lay, With his leg all badly broken,
We know a hill is smooth and round, Where Indian relics may be found, This hill it hath a history,
Moore found the ballads of Green Isle Were oft obscured beneath the soil, As miner digging in a mine
In the great Province of Bengal, The scavenger is the Jackal, For it doth love each night to feast,
The wondrous shepherd James Hogg Was happy with his good sheep dog, Meditating o'er his sweet lays
The first winter which I did spend In Canada was with a friend, And when the snow had passed away
(Life of the early settlers.) Canada hath wealthy yeomen Whose fathers overcome the foemen,
English Woodstock had a palace Where the Queen in jealous malice Slew romance's fairest flower,
Some do boast of their pedigrees, But Salford's parent of the cheese, Ranney, industrious and wise,
Where each one expressed some sentiment. In this album you may trace, If not the lineaments of face,
I tell you what my little Dora, You do cause my heart to sorrow, Tell me now you little misses
'Mong silver hills of Nevada There is many a wild bravado, Who oft indulge in lawless vice,
On grassy amphitheatre, Spectators sit to view the war, 'Mong bold contestants on the plain
And Millar poet of Sierras, For bold deeds he doth prepare us, And now he lives by the golden gate,
Like mightiest organ in full tone, Melodious, grand, is great Milton, He did in lofty measures tell
Weight over seven thousand pounds. We have seen thee, queen of cheese, Lying quietly at your ease,
I am a hunter by profession, And when I make this confession, Of what I saw with mine own eyes,
The ancient poets ne'er did dream That Canada was land of cream, They ne'er imagined it could flow
A great enchanter too is Poe, His bells do so harmonious flow, Wondrous mystery of his raven
In winter time 'tis sad and dreary For to gaze on stormy Erie, But here in summer time this port
In the land of woods and lakes, Pure happiness each one partakes, Who is sound in body and in mind,
Canada proves her devotion To her who rules o'er land and sea, For loyal thoughts do hearts inspire,
With our Canadian snow shoes, O'er snow you walk where'er you choose, But on long shoes Norwegian
The mind that's sad it doth relax The humor of the witty Saxe, He puts us in a cheerful mood,
We have scarcely time to tell thee Of the strange and gifted Shelly, Kind hearted man but ill-fated,
There is a peculiar snake, You might almost call it squatter, It loves to dive in pond or lake,
A sailor he was swept from deck, In minute he seem'd as a speck, Tossing on each briny wave,
Our Canadian county Perth, Commemorates great bard of earth, Stratford and Avon both are here,
Now let the hero of our song, Be he who gentle treats the throng, And would not cruel treat another,
Of our Laureate we now do sing, His youthful muse had daring wing, He then despised Baronhood,
September came and with it frost The season's pasture it seemed lost, And the wondrous yield of corn
On Ganges banks roams the tiger, And lion rules by the Niger, Hunter heard shrill cry of peacocks,
When Indian tribes in the Northwest Rebelled against the Eastern laws, Canadian courage it did test,
For erratic style he leads van, Wildly wayward Walt Whitman, He done grand work in civil war,