And the willowy grilses school;
’Neath the feathery arch of the drowsy larch,
The birch bark floated and swayed,
As the rhythmic paddles dipped and swung,
And splashed with the slap of the spade.
On the rocking waves of the foaming lake,
The Frenchman turned and gazed,
For he saw a land which was new, which was grand,
And his spirit shrank amazed.
So he planted the flag of King-cursed France,