11. ROCKTON FAIR - Antrim Farm -Nov 1,1895
Thoughts in rhyme on receiving a copy of the Galt reporter containing a prize list of Rockton Fair, 1895
I am sitting to-night by my fireside
And watching the embers glow
While I think of the days that have long gone past
Of the sunny long ago...
And I think once more of my boyhood days
So free from care and woe...
They bring back the scenes I had nearly forgotten
When we went to Rockton Show...
The way was long and not very smooth
The way that we used to go
But with lightsome step and gladsome heart
We started for Rockton Show...
Sometimes the morn was fair and clear
With autumn flowers in full glow
And with laugh and shout we tripped along
On our way to Rockton Show...
Sometimes the morn was dull and cold
And wet with sleet and snow
But we took our way, by the old Guelph road
And made straight for Rockton Show...
We passed through Embry and Henderson farms
The way that we liked to go
Till we caught a sight of the flag that waved
So proudly at Rockton Show
We loved that flag in our boyhood days
For what reason we hardly know
And we love it still tho' the years have fled
That have brought us joy and woe...
The morning sun shines clear and fair
On its folds where'er you go
And I hope the day will never come
When it's not at Rockton Show...
They hurry and rush with din and noise
And with driving to and fro
And all the sights that our young eyes saw
Just kept us on the go...
And when the day was nearly done
Then homeward we did go
But how heavy our feet and slow our steps
As we turned from Rockton Show...
But they've changed its name from what it was then
It's now called 'The Great World's Fair'
And I often think, Would I know the place?
Would I miss old faces there?...
Some are there that oft in the past
Their joyful mirth I'd share
Now sober and quiet they take their way
To see the Great World's Fair...
And some whose faces were young and bright
Are now seamed with grief and care
While some have around them that hallowed peace
Which the Master loves to share...
And some now lie where the daisies grow
And have left a vacant chair
But we hope and pray that we all may be
Ready for the Last World's Fair.
14. BRUCE COUNCIL FOR 1896 - Underwood, Antrim Farm - Jan 25,1896
Who wants to see the champions
Just come along this way
And visit at the Township Hall
Upon a council day...
When half a ton of wisdom
Just sits around the table
To make the by-laws for this place
Who'll say they are not able?...
To see the laws are carried out
That they now plan and make
I am sure a look from them
Will make one fear and quake...
Saugeen may boast of Hutchison
Kincardine of its Bland
But Bruce I'm sure will take the cake
With its noble five in hand...
Now for a pull upon a rope
They'd make a dandy lot
And where's the man who dares to say
That he believes it not...
Should any other council try
To claim the Championship
I'll bet my bottom dollar
Bruce will win it, if they sit.
23. BRUCE COUNCIL FOR 1897 - Antrim Farm - January 4, 1897
I am asked to sing the praises
Of the Champions once again
And look at some new phases
Of these most wondrous men...
It's not to praise their blood and bone
It's not to praise their strength
It's not to praise what good they've done
Nor tell of their great length...
It's not for Wisdom's words that fell
In choicest language dressed
It' not for loving hearts that dwell
Within their spacious breasts...
It's not for deeds of valor done
Which Britons love to see
It's not that some grand truth was won
Through their instrumentality...
It's not their work for Temperance
In this township where they dwell
Nor help this good cause to advance
And make whiskey hard to sell...
It's not that fear or favor
Has lost it's charm for them
Nor is it their endeavor
To be worthy council men...
But it is for their economy
I am asked to give a shout
And how they save for you and me
I now must tell it out...
Now if you want a ditch cleaned out
They'll tell you with a sneer
It's something they don't know about
You must send for the engineer...
And if their dogs do worry sheep
And quite a number slay
They'll wipe their mouths, deny the truth
And let our township pay...
All other's wages they cut down
And do it in a trice
But OH! so hard to cut their own
It's never thought of twice...
Economy! Oh Economy!
I'll shout it o'er and o'er
It's just such quack economy
That made old Ireland poor.
34. JUBILEE SONG - Antrim Farm - June 22, 1897
Rule Britannia o'er the waves
Her sons shall never be made slaves
They'd rather go to watery graves
For sake of Britain's Queen...
While Britons still together stand
No foreign foe shall rule our land
Nor leave their tracks upon our sand
Long life our noble Queen...
From John O. Groats to Isle of Wight
Her sons would rise in awful might
And put their enemies to flight
For sake of home and Queen...
Our Canada would lead the van
Her sons would never flee, but stand
And fight for home and motherland
And shout "God Save the Queen"...
Australians, like their kangaroo
Are ready both to dare and do
And fight for all that's good and true
And sing "Long live the Queen"...
From every clime beneath the sun
Comes the great shout, "we all are one"
And duty we will never shun
Though far from home and Queen.
43. THE INDIAN'S FAREWELL TO BAI-DE-DORE - Antrim Farm - January 1898
One day in the year eighteen hundred and fifty
A fine-looking Indian stepped out from his door
The squaw in his tent was both nimble and thrifty
And looked at her lord as he stalked near the shore...
It was twelve years before that this young brave had courted
The belle of the lodge on the Pene-tang-gore
And oft with deft fingers his bright beads had sorted
Since she came to his lodge by the bay Bai-de-dore...
He had told her that morning they would have to be leaving
For the white man was coming to cut down the wood
No tear in her eye, though her bosom was heaving
She was hiding her feelings as well as she could...
And four little Indians who called him their father
Were playing so merrily about the tent door
To stay by the beautiful bay they would rather
And hunt for the shells along the smooth shore...
It did not take long their goods for to pack
The Indian reached up to the peg for his gun
His squaw took the most of their goods on her back
And their tramp for new hunting-grounds now was begun...
And up through the woods where oft times they had sported
On the well-beaten trail to the top of the hill
Where oft the young braves had the dusky maids courted
But the woods to-day were quite lonely and still...
And up on the hill where the white folk now bury
And lay their dear friends in their long quiet rest
The Indians now seemed to be in no hurry
For they laid down their packs and looked to the West...
Some minutes they stood without ever moving
As they looked on the spot that they always liked best
It had been the place of his forefathers choosing
And oft hunting parties had found it a rest...
"Farewell", said the Indian to the home of my childhood
The spot that is nearest and dearest of all
Farewell to the friends asleep in the wildwood
Though in my dreams I'll their faces recall...
How deep was my sleep, and how sweet was my slumber
When lulled to my rest by Lake Huron's roar
My mother's sweet kisses I've had without number
Since the day that she gave me to sweet Bai-de-dore...
Farewell to the bay 'long whose shores I have gamboled
Or plunged in its waters so clear and so bright
Where I with my comrades have often assembled
And kept up our dances far into the night...
No more shall I float in my birch bark canoe
Nor skim o'er its waters so far from the shore
And like to a seagull that so leisurely flew
And dipped in the waters of dear Bai-de-dore...
Farewell to the scenes that I now leave forever
To seek a new lodge on the far Northern shore
To forget this loved spot in my heart I will never
O I long for the white man to trouble no more.
44. Latest device for carrying out an agreement fully covered by letters patent in the USA and Canada. (Cheese Johnny inventor and patentee B.C.) For testimonials apply to the
UNDERWOOD CHEESE MFG.CO - Antrim Farm - January 1898
For something fresh and something good
Be sure you come to Underwood
And if your debt you will not pay
We'll show you now another way...
Of course it would not suit so well
When we our factory cheese would sell
And selling it at seven per pound
The buyer gives us three all round...
We'd think he was a tricky man
For working out that yankee plan
But don't you fret, we'll have our way
In spite of what the others say...
To vote them down, it is quite easy
Though they may make the matter breezy
We catch right on whene'er they grunt
And just cheek up, and say we won't...
Of course they squeal, and kick, and holler
It's not so nice to lose a dollar
It's easy too for to us make it
'Cause they're not able now to take it...
Instead of paying seven per cent
(We do not want our surplus spent)
We've hit it now, right to a T
We'll only pay those fellows three.
45. ONTARIO "YET" - Antrim Farm - February, 1898
Hurrah, Hurrah for Whitney
Ontario's loyal son
Hurrah, hurrah, will soon be free
The fight will soon be won...
No more shall loved Ontario
A million dollars spend
To help Sir Wilfred Laurier
And Israel Tarte, his friend...
And full two thousand parasites
("Just like the San Jose Scale")
That suck our blood with all their might
Until our strength does fail...
And Dryden, how he hollers
About his butter trade
Each pound just cost two dollars
Now where's the money made...
No more shall Davis pig-sty
Its cholera porker sell
While honest men do blush and sigh
The story for to tell...
No more shall "Yankee" saw mills then
Take just our best pine logs
While Hardy and Ross say to our men
Why you go to the dogs...
Rise up Ontario in thy might
And freeman ballots cast
And twenty years of moonlight
Will not much longer last.
46. THE WHACKING OF WHITNEY - Antrim Farm - March, 1898
The swing of victory's in the air
The "Globe" I'm sure has done its share
And tried it's best to just get there
Upon the 1st of March...
Hardy and Ross did what they could
To make their boasting promise good
To whack this Whitney as they should
Upon the 1st of March...
As Whitney thus they tried to whack
They slipped up quickly on his track
And thought to hit him on his back
Upon the 1st of March...
But people often times do slip
Before the cup gets to the lip
So Hardy, Ross, just got a trip
Upon the 1st of March...
That landed them upon their nose
And Whitney tramped them on their toes
And gave them some left hand blows
Upon the 1st of March...
For Gibson's down deep in the gutter
And Dryden's done for making butter
And all the "Grits" are in a splutter
E'er since the 1st of March
53. COUNTY COMMISSIONERS - Antrim Farm - December, 1898
Whene'er you go out on the street
You'll see some groups of voters meet
They want to know who's going to stand
For nomination day's at hand
And then on Nomination day
So many men will have their say
And some will tell of good deeds done
These last two years, at Walkerton...
Those that are in would like to stay
If only for three dollars per day
They do not care for honour, No
Nor care for things that make a show
They say they've make this county famed
They built a "Refuge", that is claimed
To be both well and cheaply done
Since they went down to Walkerton...
Some say, the county's taken a leap
Full twenty thousand dollars deep
And twenty years shall pass away
Before the last red cent we'll pay
Now "Harcourt", he could show quite plain
That all this money is clear again
He'd show how slick it could be done
Let's get him quick at Walkerton
60. LATEST NEWS FROM AFRICA - Antrim Farm - March 6th, 1900
A tale has come from Afric's shore
Midst mauser crack and cannon roar
That Britons, as in days of yore
Ne'er quailed nor faltered
By Kopje's hill or sandy veldt
Where dust and heat is sorely felt
Our boys, the boastful Boer has dealt
A blow that makes things altered
Canadian lads have led the van
We knew they'd never flee, but stand
And fight for flag and Motherland
Or die, as some have died
So full our hearts with pride and pain
We cheer the living, praise the slain
For deeds they'd gladly do again
And other deeds besides
Canadian mothers weep to-day
For sons who were their pride and stay
Whose lifless forms lie far away
In Afric's Golden Sand
And mothers 'neath the Southern Cross
Around whose shores the wild waves toss
Weep with our own in their sharp loss
In far-off Southern land
The Motherland from cot to hall
Shed tears for noble sons who fall
Who answered to their country's call
To show their country's might
We'll pray for blessings on the cause
That all may have the same just laws
May British never make a pause
Till past wrongs are make right
61. FOR QUEEN VICTORIA'S 81ST BIRTHDAY Antrim Farm - May 24, 1900
When morning's sun with golden beams
First streaks the eastern sky
We hear the beating of the drum
And there a flag floats high
And as the orb of day ascends
We hear that same loved lay
"God Save the Queen" is sung by friends
Upon the Queen's birthday
It's three and sixty years ago
A youthful maiden fair
Came to the throne, received a crown
And still she's sitting there
This earth has never seen the like
Go search where'er you may
Of all these three and sixty years
This is the greatest day
She had gained a place in every heart
Throughout her vast domain
Not only o'er her people rules
But in their hearts she reigns
All rulers sure can learn of her
Why -- she's a great success
A faithful wife, a mother true
But queenly none the less
One thing has helped our noble Queen
With home and nations cares
And that one thing we all have seen
Is a nation's stream of prayers
And prayers ascend from Afric's shores
Where lances flash and gleam
Midst battles rush, and cannons' roar
Arise, "God Save our Queen"
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