One day while passing ’long the road
On a small book we almost trod,
Its leaves were scattered o’er the ground,
We picked them up and when we found
The author’s name, it did inspire
Us with a very strong desire
To read the little volume through,
For most of it to us was new.
He doth sing of land of heather
And Canadian scenes together,
He did adore Niagara’s roar
Where mighty flood o’er fall doth pour.
But poets lives are often brief
And he had his full share of grief,
Which to his life did gloom impart,
But he bore up with his brave heart.