#CanadianWriters
Our muse it doth refuse to sing Of cheese made early in the spring… When cows give milk from spring fo… You cannot make a good cheddar. The quality is often vile
We were so deeply impressed with t… in a prose tale that we transposed… A buffalo, lord of the plain, With massive neck and mighty mane, While from his herd he slowly stra…
British infants who were nobly bor… Were from their bleeding mother’s… And with the bayonet dashed upon t… There left to lie for native dogs… But the British Lion he soon o’er…
If you are sulky, Nova Scotia, We’ll gladly let you float away From out our Confederation; You sicken us with sily agitation. If any more our patience you do ta…
Read at the opening of the New Pa… Some do boast of their pedigrees, But Salfords parent of the cheese… Rennie, industrious and wise, Here started this great enterprise…
When this country it was woody, Its great champion, Mrs. Moody, She showed she had both pluck and… In her work, roughing in the bush. For there all alone she will dwell…
Goldsmith wrote Deserted Village, Now again reduced to tillage; Once happiest village of the plain… Place now you look for it in vain; There but one man he doth make ric…
When Father Ranney left the Stat… In Canada to try the fates, He settled down in Dereham, Then no dairyman lived near him. He was the first there to squeeze
At the announcement that Britain… the Hungarian Patriot and orator,… England, that the British Lion wa… When the British Lion offered aid… Round many lips a sneer of serious…
Gardner told a sad tale of woe, How he was oft o’erwhelmed in snow But was he frightened? no! no!! no… He onward cheerfully did go, And though that he did freeze his…
Written at the time of the disaste… ’Twas on a pleasant eve in May. Just as the sun shed its last ray, The bell it rang, citizens to warn… For lo! a fire appears in barn.
My friends, we sing Canadian them… For in them we proudly glory; Her lakes, her rivers and her stre… Worthy of renown in story. And in these leaves we hope is str…
The ancient poets ne’er did dream That Canada was land of cream, They ne’er imagined it could flow In this cold land of ice and snow, Where everything did solid freeze,
Of our Laureate we now do sing– His youthful muse had daring wing, He then despised Baronhood, And sang ’twas noble to be good. None sang like him of knights of o…
Delivered at opening of Odd-Fello… Dereham now hath wealthy yoemen Whose fathers overcame the foemen… The enemy they boldly slew Was mighty forests they did hew,