Poetry

of Oshawa, a Writer of Canadian Sketches

We do greet thee Thomas Conant,
You truthful paint Canadian charms,
And you are the great exponent
Of beauties of her woods and farms.

You give fine sketch of bird and fowl,
Of the blue jay and the plover,
And of great white Canadian owl,
All proves of nature you’re a lover.

Lines Sent to Alexander McLaughlan, Amaranth Station, with a Copy of My Poems

We send to you these rugged rhymes
In memory of the olden times,
Great chief of our poetic clan,
Admired by all, McLaughlan.

Holland River and Its Tributaries

Meanderings of a stream rises twenty miles north of Toronto and sweeps around the whole of Southern Ontario.

We love to sing of tiny stream,
Through the lowland meadows running,
To us it is a pleasing theme,
Tracing it from first beginning.

’Tis strange how far a brook will roam,
Moving onwards in its motion,
And not content till it reaches home,
Two thousand miles to distant ocean.

In county York springs a small brook,
A few miles north of Ontario,
But it doth take a wondrous crook,
It northward many miles doth flow.

Brook’s progress south is stopped by ridge,
Doth debar its southern course,
So a long journey it don’t grudge,
But slowly on its way doth force.

And it discharges at its mouth
Into the pure clear lake Simcoe,
It still flows north for to get south,
As onward still its course doth go.

Rejoicing along its way,
Hundreds of miles it doth flow west,
Blended in the Georgian Bay,
For a moment it doth not rest.

Mingling with Huron and St. Clair,
Erie and Niagara river,
Even at the Falls it don’t despair,
But it cheerful flows forever.

One thousand miles round an ox bow,
It hath flowed back near its first start,
To waters of Ontario,
Where ridge at first kept it apart.

From south of ridge two rivers flow,
Both the Don and the Humber,
Embracing city of Toronto,
Hath attractions without number.

The fame will spread far and wide,
First of Don and then of Humber,
Improved rivers like to the Clyde,
With wharves for coal, wood, iron and lumber.

The Vale of Thames

In vale of Thames oft’ times are seen
The cattle graze ’mong sweetest green,
Or there contented with their fate
The gentle cows do ruminate.

And enjoy a double pleasure
In re-chewing hidden treasure,
The cow is a kindly creature,
Kind and pleasant in each feature.

About her is a homely charm,
And her the dog should not alarm,
But let all safe guard her from harm,
The gentlest creature on the farm.

Ranney, 1856, Dairy System

Ranney began with just two cows,
Which he in winter fed on browse,
And now he hath got mighty herds
Numerous as flock of birds,
May he long live our hearts to cheer
This great and useful pioneer.

Lines Read at a Dairymen’s Supper

It almost now seems all in vain
For to expect high price for grain,
Wheat is grown on Egyptian soil
On the banks of mighty Nile.

And where the Ganges it doth flow,
In India fine wheat doth grow,
And price of labor is so cheap
That it they can successful reap.

Then let the farmers justly prize
The cows for land they fertilize,
And let us all with songs and glees
Invoke success into the cheese.

Ensilage

The farmers now should all adorn
A few fields with sweet southern corn,
It is luscious, thick and tall,
The beauty of the fields in fall.

For it doth make best ensilage,
For those in dairying engage,
It makes the milk in streams to flow,
Where dairymen have a good silo.

The cow is a happy rover
O’er the fields of blooming clover,
Of it she is a fond lover,
And it makes milk pails run over.

Fertile Lands and Mammoth Cheese

In barren district you may meet
Small fertile spot doth grow fine wheat,
There you may find the choicest fruits,
And great, round, smooth and solid roots.

But in conditions such as these
You cannot make a mammoth cheese,
Which will weigh eight thousand pounds,
But where large fertile farms abounds.

Big cheese is synonymous name,
With fertile district of the Thame,
Here dairy system’s understood,
And they are made both large and good.

Lines Read at a Dairymaids’ Social

1887.

Where the young lady waiters were dressed as dairymaids.

Throughout the world they do extol
The fame of our town Ingersoll,
The capital of dairyland,
To-night it seems like fairy land,
The youth and beauty here arrayed,
So sweet and neat each dairymaid.

And worthy of a poet’s theme,
Sweet and smooth flows milk and cream,
For song or glee what is fitter
In this land of cheese and butter,
But no young man should be afraid
To court a pretty dairymaid.

And far abroad he should not roam
But find a charmer here at home,
Find some one now your heart to cheer,
Thus celebrate the jubilee year,
Remember long this ladies’ aid
And each bewitching dairymaid.

Windmills and Stone Stables

Cows suffered in the days of old
For want of water and from cold,
Now of good water they have fill
For it is pumped by the windmill.

No matter how well cows were fed
They suffered cold in their board shed,
But good stone walls now them enfold,
And they are warm and safe from cold.

Now they do enjoy their fodder,
And repay with their full udder,
If bran slops you on cow bestow
Of milk it will increase the flow.

And in your efforts do not halt
But let them daily lick the salt,
And never let the dogs them chase,
But let them walk at their quiet pace.

Dairy Ode

The sweet milkmaid of early days
Her own household she ably sways,
And her daughters now milk the cows,
And her sons they now guide the plows.

These pleasing changes on a farm
Doth give to rural life a charm,
Let occupation none upbraid,
But honor plowman and milkmaid.

For Burns with glory did endow
And wove a garland round the plow,
The source from which all wealth doth spring
And happiness to all doth bring.

Our muse it doth refuse to sing
Of cheese made early in the spring,
When cows give milk from spring fodder
You cannot make a good cheddar.

The quality is often vile
Of cheese that is made in April,
Therefore we think for that reason
You should make later in the season.

Cheese making