THE BEARS OF CANADA
Oh! bear me from this savage land of bears,
For 'tis indeed unbearable to me:
I'd rather cope with vilest worldly cares,
Or writhe with cruel sickness of the sea.
Oh! bear me to my own bear land of hills,(1)
Where I'd be sure brave bear-legg'd lads to see—
bear cakes, bear rocks, and whiskey stills,
And bear-legg'd nymphs, to smile once more on me.
I'd bear the heat, I'd bear the freezing air
Of equatorial realm or Arctic sea,
I'd sit all bear at night, and watch the Northern bear,
And bless my soul that he was far from me.
I'd bear the poor-rates, tithes, and all the ills
John Bull must bear, (who takes them all, poor sinner!
As patients do, when forced to gulp down pills,
And water-gruel drink in lieu of dinner).
I'd bear the bareness of all barren lands
Before I'd bear the bearishness of this;
bear head, bear feet, bear legs, bear hands,
bear everything, but want of social bliss.
But should I die in this drear land of bears,
Oh! ship me off, my friends, discharge the sable wearers,
For if you don't, in spite of priests and prayers,
The bear will come, and eat up corpse and bearers.