Lies low in death—thy voice is mute.
He’s gane, the noblest o’ us a’—
Aboon a’ care o’ warldly fame;
An’ wha se proud as he to ca’
Our Canada his hame?
The gentle maple weeps an’ waves
Aboon our patriot-statesman’s heed;
But if we prize the licht he gave,
We’ll bury feuds of race and creed.
For this he wrocht, for this he died;