William M. MacKeracher

“ CANADA, MY LAND
There may be more enchanting climes
FORWARD, CANADA!
Northland of our birth and rearing
CANADIAN-BORN
Although I'm not unduly proud
KNOW'ST THOU THE LAND!
Know'st thou the land where the pious and bold
O MAPLE LEAF! ”

“ Companion sweet of meek-ey'd Holiness.
Thou hast no local temple, no set shrine;
Thou art diffus'd o'er earth and sky and sea;
In every land a thousand haunts are thine,
Spirits of every race respond to thee. ”

“ Changing their places like a fleet of vessels tempest-driven
That blindly meet within the waves and part with timbers riven,
Waving their sticks with frantic zeal—But isn't this a sight?
My goodness! I could sit and watch a game like this all night.
There, dirty trousers, there's your chance. Muffed it! Why weren't
you quick?
This is a sight to make the sad rejoice, to heal the sick,
To rouse the drones and give them life to last them half a year—
Hit him again!—I wish I had my congregation here.
My stars! and this is hockey. Hockey's the king of sports. ”

“ My own Canadian girl.
Thy brow is like the silver moon
That sails in summer skies,
The mirror of a mind immune
From care, serene and wise,
Thy nose is sculptured ivory;
Thine ears are lobes of pearl;
Thy lips are corals from the sea,
My own Canadian girl.
Thine eyes are limpid pools of light,
The windows of thy soul;
The stars are not so clear and bright
That shine around the pole.
The crimson banners of thy cheeks
To sun and wind unfurl;
Thy tongue makes music when it speaks,
My own Canadian girl. ”

“ God prosper our Canadian sports and keep them clean and pure,
Whole-hearted, manly, generous, and let them long endure!
Long live each honest winter sport, each good Canadian game,
To train the youth in lusty health and iron strength of frame,
To make them noble, vigorous, straightforward, ardent, bold,
Nearer a perfect standard than the grandest knights of old. ”

“ Owen Roe was a fighter they never could tame;
As a nation the Irish have glory and fame;
For there's nothing too good for the Irish.
And the Irish are noted for piety, too:
There's nothing too good for the Irish. ”

“ Their proud patronymics, they rightfully hold,
Proclaim them descended from heroes of old.—
Illustrious titles that throw in the shade
The dukedoms and earldoms but yesterday made;
And even the King with his royalty lacks
A lineage as ancient as that of the Macs.
They are old and yet young, with a spirit possest
By the dream of the East and the hope of the West;
The earth is their country, the race is their kin;
In populous cities their guerdon they win,
And in gold miners' cabins and lumbermen's shacks
You will find the ubiquitous, venturesome Macs. ”

“ Fierce courage that nothing on earth can subdue,
Sense of honor that shrinks from a blot,
Inexhaustible loyalty, loving and true,
You will find them to-day in a Scot.
If you want an intense love of country and kin,
An attachment as tender as strong,
That can gar the blood leap when the pipers begin,
And the tear start at sound of a song;
A grand patriotic devotion and pride,
That makes sanctified ground of the spot
Where a Scotsman for freedom has suffered and died ”

“ As firm as ice upon the pond
It is of hearts a brother bond;
It trains us to be wise and true
In all we undertake to do,
And fits for every higher aim,
The roarin' game, the roarin' game,
The roarin' game, the roarin' game
Will never give us cause for shame,
No shattered nerves and aching heads,
Bad consciences and nameless dreads,
But health and strength and minds serene
And kindly hearts and friendly mien:
No honest tongue will e'er defame
The roarin' game, the roarin' game.
THE OLD SCOTTISH MINISTER.
A man he was of Scottish race,
And ancient Scottish name ”

“ And all have skates and hockey sticks and enter without price.
And seats are round for those who rest—the idle and the old;
But those who are not in the game are apt to find it cold.
Some play defence, some forward, with terrific speed and stress.
The puck keeps flying 'twixt the goals of failure and success,
Now up, now down, across and back, here, there, and everywhere.
The grit of skates, the crack of sticks, the shouting, fill the air.
Some slip and fall a thousand times and spring up in a trice;
Some go to pieces on their feet and have to leave the ice ”

“ Who mostly lets the game go on as if He didn't see.
No gong rings out half-time to let the players get their breath—
To most full time comes only with the solemn stroke of death.
The winners are not always those who make the biggest score:
The vanquished oft are victors when the stubborn game is o'er ”

“ I do sincerely trust there'll not be anybody killed.
It's a wondrous exhibition of alertness, speed, and strength.
I suppose there's not much danger—there's a fellow at full length.
He's up again; that's plucky. Well, the little lad has pluck—
And now he's master of the ice, possessor of the puck. ”