Canadian Sports And Games And Plays.

        Burns sang of joys of Hallowe'en
        But in Canada is often seen
        By far more jolly times than these
        At logging raising, paring bees,
        For here the youth is not afraid
        To trip it with a pretty maid,
        For this at night is his reward
        For working at the bee so hard,
        And oft times till the break of day
        At forfeits they will merry play,
        For he doth win e'en though he miss,
        If from sweet lass he gets a kiss,
        But in its place doth justly prize
        His tea and cakes and pumpkin pies.

        When winter comes it brings no gloom
        But makes fresh pleasures spring and bloom,
        For when the youth longs for a bride
        He gives his girl a grand sleigh ride,
        Which to them both doth pleasures bring
        While merry sleigh bells cheery ring,
        And with the fair maid of his choice
        He graceful skates with her on ice,
        Charming mode of locomotion
        Gliding o'er a polished ocean,
        Such joys they soon do love evolve,
        And they on union do resolve,
        He is happy with his chosen,
        For warm love gets never frozen.

        And young folks oft they do take pride,
        How swift they down the hill can glide,
        And they bravely dare the frost king
        So they may enjoy the coasting,
        Each striving for to lead the van
        In the swift shooting toboggan.

        And on the ice men love to hurl
        The polished blocks to skilful curl,
        And curlers all do proudly claim
        Their's is a manly healthy game,
        And in Canadians you trace
        A generous, hardy and brave race.

        And brilliant as a fairy hall
        Is scenes on ice at carnival,
        Before the gale in an ice boat
        It swiftly o'er the ice doth float,
        The sensation is you fly
        Like lightning shooting through the sky.

        In summer time the youth do toss
        The baseball and do play lacrosse,
        And tradition doth for it claim
        That 'tis an ancient Indian game,
        And if a foe invade we can,
        Drive them back with clubs Canadian.

James McIntyre

James McIntyre was a Canadian poet, most notable for his poetry concerning cheese, cheese-making, dairying, and dairy products. Often referred to as 'The Cheese Poet,' McIntyre's work is celebrated for its earnestness and unintentional humor, making him both a beloved and an infamous figure in literary circles. He emigrated from Scotland to Canada in 1851 and settled in Ingersoll, Ontario, where he became a successful businessman and community leader.

James McIntyre

Providential Escape.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Disaster To Steamer Victoria At London.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Lofty Actors Withdraw.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Canadian Rivers And Lakes.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Parson At The Hockey Match.

    It's very disagreeable to sit here in the cold,
    And a sinful waste of time - ah, well, it's too late now to scold;
    I'll think about my sermon and my prayers for Sunday next,
    And the young folks may be happy - let me see - what was my text?
    But what a throng of people - an immortal soul in each:
    With such an audience this would be a splendid place to preach.
    I'd have the pulpit half-way down - what ice! without a smirch!
    Here are the men - I wonder if they ever go to church.
    "The teams?"    Ah, yes, "the forwards, point, and cover-point and goal";
    Thank you, my dear, I understand - is that a lump of coal?
    "Rubber?"    Ah, yes, "The puck?" just so!    One's holding it, I see -
    That fellow with his clothes all on - ah, that's the referee.

W. M. MacKeracher

Canadian Romance.

        An English youth to Canada came,
        A labourer, John Roe by name,
        His little wealth had made him bold,
        Twenty sovereigns in gold;
        He was industrious and wise
        And e'en small sums did not despise,
        He added to his wealth each year
        For independence he loved dear,
        He knew a laborer he would be
        Forever in the old country,
        His forefathers had tilled the ground
        And never one had saved a pound.
        On beds of down they did not lie
        And frugally their goods did buy,
        Their one luxury around their door
        A few choice flowers their garden bore,
        But never hoped to own the soil
        But serve as hinds to sweat and toil,
        To work an...

James McIntyre

Lines Read At A Maple Sugar Social, April, 1888.

        Our first Canadian job when boy,
        In the big woods we did enjoy,
        Large maple bush we then did tap
        And to camp carried maple sap.

        We stored it in great wooden trough,
        Then in big kettles sugared off,
        Though often it did try our mettle
        To keep up fire beneath each kettle.

        For it was a serious toil
        To cut the wood to kettles boil,
        To-night it is a pleasant joke,
        No trouble from the fire and smoke.

        Of old we thought our neck was broke
        By having on it a neckyoke,
        And on each side a heavy pail
        Suspended from the yoke by bail.

        We waded through the snow and slush
        And stumbled o'er the logs in bush,<...

James McIntyre

Hallowe'en.

        A tale we'll tell of what hath been
        When maids and youths kept Hallowe'en,
        It is a tale of old world lore
        What happened in the days of yore,
        When fairies danced upon the green
        So merrily on Hallowe'en,
        And witches did play many a trick
        Assisted by their auld friend Nick,
        And lovers meet around the fire
        Near to the one their hearts desire,
        For to burn nuts for to discover
        The truthfulness of their lover.
        They first did give each nut a name,
        This was Sandy, that was Jane.
        If they did blaze side by side,
        She knew her husband, he his bride,
        But if one up the chimney flew,
        One knew the other was not true.
        ...

James McIntyre

Winter In Canada.

Nay tell me not that, with shivering fear,
You shrink from the thought of wintering here;
That the cold intense of our winter-time
Is severe as that of Siberian clime,
And, if wishes could waft you across the sea,
You, to-night, in your English home would be.

Remember, no hedges there now are bright
With verdure, or blossoms of hawthorn white;
In damp, sodden fields or bare garden beds
No daisies or cowslips show their heads;
Whilst chill winds and skies of gloomy hue
Tell in England, as elsewhere, 'tis winter too.

Away with dull thoughts! Raise your brooding eyes
To yonder unclouded azure skies;
Look round on the earth, robed in bridal white,
All glittering and flashing with diamonds bright,
While o'er head, her lover and lord, the sun,
Shine...

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

The Native Born.

There's a thing we love to think of when the summer days are long,
And the summer winds are blowing, and the summer sun is strong,
When the orchards and the meadows throw their fragrance on the air,
When the grain-fields flaunt their riches, and the glow is everywhere.
        Something sings it all the day,
            Canada, fair Canada,
    And the pride thrills through and through us,
            'Tis our birthplace, Canada!

There's a thing we love to think of when the frost and ice and snow
Hold high carnival together, and the biting north winds blow.
There's a thing we love to think of through the bitter winter hours,
For it stirs a warmth within us - 'tis this fair young land of ours.
        Something sings it all the day,
            Canada, fair Canada,

Jean Blewett