Sing me her life, her loves, her labors;
All of a mother a son would hear;
For when a lov'd one's praise is sounding,
Sweet are the strains to the lover's ear.
Sing me the worth of each Canadian—
Roamer in wilderness, toiler in town—
Search earth over you'll find none stauncher,
Whether his hands be white or brown;
Come of a right good stock to start with,
Best of the world's blood in each vein;