With choicest meat, both rare and sweet,
In “Merry England,” they compete.
In farm or mine, with food or wine,
To lead the leaders they incline.
By skill they coil the threads of toil
Around the riches of the soil.
And, for the sake of gain to make,
Great enterprise they undertake.
Well, far and near, we’ve gathered here,
And all in all it doth appear
That higher goals and nobler souls
Are here, than elsewhere ’tween the poles.
Now wake, my Muse, do not refuse
To pay “my hostess” honest dues.