Poor laborers, they did sad bewail… When the machine displaced the fla… Theres little work, now, with the… Since cultivators weed the rows. Labor it became more fickle

The following was composed and rea… Parsonage, Salford, in the fall,… The farmers are in cheerful mood, For harvest all it hath been good; And all the grain was sown this sp…

Gazing on rapid’s mighty sea, Struggling fiercely to be free, But drawn downward in its course By gravitation’s wonderous force, O’er those perpendicular walls,

In these sketches of towns in Wes… to suppose that because we have pr… that said rhymes are poetry. If we… like a dewdropp sparkling in the s… Brantford as thriving city’s famed…

It is folly now to aim Or to seek for distant fame, But rest content if we can claim Something of a local name Oh the pleasant banks of Thame,

We occasionally get a few gleams o… of life.A number of years ago a pe… sketches of the various towns in C… various streams and the number of… as we had written rhymes on the ri…

Westward it winds past each town, Growing broader as it flows down. Onward it glides, never weary, Meandering so soft and cheery. The sunbeams on the waters glance,

One day, while passing 'long the r… On a small book we almost trod; Its leaves were scattered o’er the… We picked them up, and when we fou… The author’s name, it did inspire

Lines on our departed Canadian St… Joseph Howe, none higher stood th… Thou wert a man with lofty brow ; D’Arcey McGee, so brillant and f… From Green Isle you came, 'oer th…

Well tell a tale, it shall be brie… It is of rise of Maple Leaf, From noble Olive Branch it sprung… And its good deeds shall yet be su… This Encampment, though in its yo…

Our friend, Mr. Romley, He told the tale homley, And yet full of fun, How the Rabbits did run, In numbers a score,

In homely apparel one Clothes farming songs, Will Carle… But they have a manly ring, And we his praises hearty sing.

We let Ontario farmers sing About the joys the woods do bring, But we, in regions of North-West Do think prairie farms the best, For those poor men who swing the a…

And Millar, Poet of Sierras, For bold deeds he doth prepare us.