 Box 09-208 CLIPPING FROM HAMILTON HERALD Nov 27 1901 To: From: The Bard's Address To Scotia's Sons For 1901Hail Scotia's sons! Once more we meet Around Saint Andrew's sunny seat, To sing or listen to the lays That link our lives with other days, And join in generating plans Still more to magnify our clans. Within the year now nearly gone Both sun and moon have smiled and shone Upon the efforts to sustain Our friends in poverty and pain; And, though we've proudly on them spent Enough to make them laugh in Lent, In Andrew's pockets still repose Bawbees to buy at least some brose. Old Scotland still is in the front In every high heroic hunt, And with Gods grace she'll still maintain Her peerless place on land and main. Among her millions mighty men Her pet is past your poet's ken; But Murray's merry mentor Mona Would plump for plucky Lord Strathcona. In Canada we still command Success alike with head and hand. With equal ease we steer a State, Rhyme, row, or wrestle, preach or prate; Nor do we even lose our senses Although we promenade with princes. Long life to him whom Andrew hails As Chester's Chief and Prince of Wales! And ever may his consort kind Affection, fame, and fortune find! While they, we trust, will cherish some Kind thoughts of us in time to come, Their visit to our vaunted sphere Will yield us joy for many a year; And, till Saint Andrew's friends refuse To march with Minstrel Murray's Muse, We'll sing, o'er all our tracks and trails God Save the King and Prince of Wales! While rendering to the Scottish race Their present proud and peerless place, Far be it from Saint Andrew's bard To seek to limit the reward Canadian lads so well deserve For daring deeds and dauntless nerve. Not satisfied with their exploits In Indian feuds and Fenian fights, Or with the work in Afric lairs Destroying burly Boers and bears, They've clapped the climax of their claim To glory and immortal fame By doing what has ne'er been done Before by any earthly gun: In Bytown's broad and brawling brook They shot a rapid, with the Duke! E'en humble Hamilton herself, Though seldom surfeited with pelf, And sometimes almost off her feet, Has proved that she can pave a street; And, though 'tis sometimes said we've spent A Royal ransom on cement, None e'er, however wise or witty, Can say our sidewalks soil the city. With scientists like ours to see And settle what a burg should be, We well may wager, as we do, That, ere a dozen years are through, Our population shall be quite A hundred thousand, strong and bright, Prepared to tackle and to take The trade from all around the lake. Now need we fear, on clod or clay, The game of war itself to play, So long's our Mayor is a Major, We'll win our war as well's our wager. Although Saint Andrew would be sad To see his sons with mirth go mad, 'Mid such success and triumphs tall He gladly lets them hold a ball. Though mild and modest to a fault, And tempted in their toil to halt, Canadians each and all combine All earthly rivals to outshine In all the arts that nurse a nation To sterling standing in creation, And people Canada with men Of power with both the plow and pen, With men of muscle and of mind, Her wealth in all its forms to find, With men on whose bright brows is written Renown for Great and Greater Britain. With all the tenderness of Tennyson Your bard bestows on you his benison, And, with Saint Andrew's and Apollo's Regards, he closes with what follows: All hail to Hamilton, a home To which all royal ryhmers roam! Long live renowned Ontario, The proudest Province nations know! Long live old Scotland, lov'd o'er all! The richest realm around the ball! Long live old England, Ireland, Wales, And all their territorial tails! Which, linked with love, through still and storm, Together firm and fondly form The grandest galaxy of states That e'er defied the fiends and fates -- An empire worthy of the race Among whose clans we claim a place. Let us perform our part in blending Into a mould that needs no mending This great and glorious aggregation Of Kingdoms nurtured by our nation, And He Who rules the heavens will pour His blessings on us evermore. William Murray,1 St. Andrew's Day, 1901. 1 William Murray was a well known Hamilton poet, see Jeff Seffinga's lecture, "The Bard of Athol," Box 14-095. |
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Copyright 2002 Whitehern Historic House and Garden
The development of this website was directed by Mary Anderson, Ph.D. and Janelle Baldwin, M.A.
Please direct questions and comments to Mary Anderson, Ph.D.
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This digital collection was produced with financial assistance from Canada's Digital Collections initiative, Industry Canada. |