Ode On The Mammoth Cheese.

Weight over seven thousand pounds.

        We have seen thee, queen of cheese,
        Lying quietly at your ease,
        Gently fanned by evening breeze,
        Thy fair form no flies dare seize.

        All gaily dressed soon you'll go
        To the great Provincial show,
        To be admired by many a beau
        In the city of Toronto.

        Cows numerous as a swarm of bees,
        Or as the leaves upon the trees,
        It did require to make thee please,
        And stand unrivalled, queen of cheese.

        May you not receive a scar as
        We have heard that Mr. Harris
        Intends to send you off as far as
        The great world's show at Paris.

        Of the youth beware of these,
        For some of them might rudely squeeze
        And bite your cheek, then songs or glees
        We could not sing, oh! queen of cheese.

        We'rt thou suspended from balloon,
        You'd cast a shade even at noon,
        Folks would think it was the moon
        About to fall and crush them soon.

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

Castle Gordon.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Lost Son Found.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Hints To Cheese Makers.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Saxe.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

English

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Oxford Cheese Ode.

        The ancient poets ne'er did dream
        That Canada was land of cream,
        They ne'er imagined it could flow
        In this cold land of ice and snow,
        Where everything did solid freeze,
        They ne'er hoped or looked for cheese.

        A few years since our Oxford farms
        Were nearly robbed of all their charms,
        O'er cropped the weary land grew poor
        And nearly barren as a moor,
        But now their owners live at ease
        Rejoicing in their crop of cheese.

        And since they justly treat the soil,
        Are well rewarded for their toil,
        The land enriched by goodly cows
        Yields plenty now to fill their mows,
        Both wheat and barley, oats and peas,
        But still...

James McIntyre

Dairy Odes.

        The sweet milkmaid of early days
        Her own household she ably sways,
        And her daughters now milk the cows,
        And her sons they now guide the plows.

        These pleasing changes on a farm
        Doth give to rural life a charm,
        Let occupation none upbraid,
        But honor plowman and milkmaid.

        For Burns with glory did endow
        And wove a garland round the plow,
        The source from which all wealth doth spring
        And happiness to all doth bring.

        Our muse it doth refuse to sing
        Of cheese made early in the spring,
        When cows give milk from spring fodder
        You cannot make a good cheddar.

        The quality is often vile
        Of cheese that is ...

James McIntyre

Fertile Lands And Mammoth Cheese.

        In barren district you may meet
        Small fertile spot doth grow fine wheat,
        There you may find the choicest fruits,
        And great, round, smooth and solid roots.

        But in conditions such as these
        You cannot make a mammoth cheese,
        Which will weigh eight thousand pounds,
        But where large fertile farms abounds.

        Big cheese is synonymous name,
        With fertile district of the Thame,
        Here dairy system's understood,
        And they are made both large and good.

James McIntyre

Father Ranney, The Cheese Pioneer.

This is our earliest cheese ode. The Ingersoll factory has been removed to Thamesford.

        When Father Ranney left the States,
        In Canada to try the fates,
        He settled down in Dereham,
        Then no dairyman lived near him;
        He was the first there to squeeze
        His cows' milk into good cheese,
        And at each Provincial show
        His famed cheese was all the go.

        Then long life to Father Ranney
        May he wealth and honour gain aye.

        He always took the first prize
        Both for quality and size,
        But many of his neighbors
        Now profit by his labors,
        And the ladies dress in silk
        From the proceeds of the milk,
        But those who buy their butter,

James McIntyre

Sonnet To A Stilton Cheese

Stilton, thou shouldst be living at this hour
And so thou art. Nor losest grace thereby;
England has need of thee, and so have I--
She is a Fen. Far as the eye can scour,
League after grassy league from Lincoln tower
To Stilton in the fields, she is a Fen.
Yet this high cheese, by choice of fenland men,
Like a tall green volcano rose in power.


Plain living and long drinking are no more,
And pure religion reading 'Household Words',
And sturdy manhood sitting still all day
Shrink, like this cheese that crumbles to its core;
While my digestion, like the House of Lords,
The heaviest burdens on herself doth lay.

Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Lines Read At A Dairymaids' Social, 1887.

Where the young lady waiters were dressed as dairymaids.

        Throughout the world they do extol
        The fame of our town Ingersoll,
        The capital of dairyland,
        To-night it seems like fairy land,
        The youth and beauty here arrayed,
        So sweet and neat each dairymaid.

        And worthy of a poet's theme,
        Sweet and smooth flows milk and cream,
        For song or glee what is fitter
        In this land of cheese and butter,
        But no young man should be afraid
        To court a pretty dairymaid.

        And far abroad he should not roam
        But find a charmer here at home,
        Find some one now your heart to cheer,
        Thus celebrate the jubilee year,
        Remember long this ...

James McIntyre