En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Lines on Embro and Zorra

O'er various counties of the north,
When cruel order did go forth
For to destroy many a home
So that the wild deer free might roam,
The men of Sutherland and Ross
The broad Atlantic they did cross.
Each seeking for a fertile farm,
These rolling lands for them had charm.
They ne'er desired again to roam,
Each happy in his woodland home ;
Where middle branch of Thames doth flow
They built the village of Embro,
And it the hill tops now doth crown
Like its grand namesake, Edina town.
And good flour mills you here do find,
And oats, also, they here do grind.

poem by James McIntyre
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Lines on Thamesford

Delivered at Masonic concert, Thamesford-Grand Master
Col. Moffat in the chair.

The middle branch of Thames doth flow
O'er pebble bed, and it doth glow
And sparkle like silver in the sun,
As it through pasture lands doth run.

In dam is ample water stored,
To drive flour mills in Thamesford ;
Besides the power of the stream,
Saw mills and flax are drove by steam.

Our mind it doth with pleasure fill,
To see fine brick church on each hill.
And that substantial one of stone
Owned by congregation of St. John.

poem by James McIntyre
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Donald Ross

A Scottish - Canadian tale.

By the side of moss
Lived young Donald Ross,
Among the heathery hills
And the mountain rills,
In a snug little cot,
Content with his lot,
He never knew sorrow,
With his wife and wee Flora.

But an order went forth,
O'er the land of the north,
To burn many a home
So the wild deer might roam.
With grief he then did toss
All that night, Donald Ross,
And sad seemed the morrow
For his wife and sma' Flora.

Oh ! it was a cruel deed,
But nobles do not heed
The sorrows of the poor.
Drove on a barren moor,
Where he wove a wreath
Of the blooming heath,
For to crown with glory
The brow of little Flory.

He then bade farewell
To his mountain dell,
Where his fathers appears
Had lived a thousand years,
With their few goats and sheep
Which fed on hills so steep.
Oh, it was a sad story
For bonnie little Flora.

He sought a distant strand,
In Canada bought land,
To him a glorious charm
To view his own broad farm,
His horses and his cows,
Cultivators and plows ;
And now his daughter Flora
She is the flower of Zorra.

poem by James McIntyre
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The Joys of Prairie Farmers

We let Ontario farmers sing
About the joys the woods do bring,
But we, in regions of North-West
Do think prairie farms the best,
For those poor men who swing the axe
On their strength 'tis a heavy tax ;
For several years they naught can grow,
While from the first we plow and sow,
And while we plow we dont get thumps
By running it against the stumps ;
And where wild buffalo now doth feed
There very soon we'll sow the seed ;
Where Indian wigwams now do stand
Will be the site of cities grand,
And where the deer and wolf doth roam
Millions will build each happy home,
So quick as if by magic wand
They will arise o'er the whole land ;
But this one fact we wont deny
Ontario, she can supply,
For so skilfully she doth invent
Each agricultural implement.

poem by James McIntyre
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Lines on Stratford

Our Canadian County Perth
Commemorates great bard of earth ;
Stratford and Avon both are here,
And they enshrine the name Shakespeare.

For here in Stratford every ward
Is named from drama of great bard.
Here you may roam o'er Romeo
Or glance on Juliet bestow.

The valley of the Thames we presume includes Stratford
on the north and Woodstock and Ingersoll on the south.
The Avon, on whose banks Stratford is located, joins the
Thames near St.Mary's. The middle branch flows through
Embro and Thamesford, the south and middle branches
unite and flow through Dorchester and Westminster and
blend with the northern branch at London, where it deviates
to Elgin in the south.

poem by James McIntyre
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Lines on Ingersoll

The Thames, and tributary rills
Here they do drive numerous mills,
Enabling millers, to compete,
To pay high price for oats and wheat.
Here streams do drive many a wheel
For to grind both flour and oat meal,
And town will extend its boundries
With its enterprising foundries;
And, brighter day for it yet dawns
With its grand mansions, and fine lawns.

poem by James McIntyre
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Lines on Beachville

Of Beachville, village of the plain,
We now will sing a short refrain,
For here the Thames doth pleasant flow
And charms to landscape doth bestow ;
Though river here it is not deep,
Yet banks slope graceful up the steep
And from the summit of the hills
You look down on the famed lime kilns,
And 'tis full worthy poets rhyme
The whiteness of thy pure fine lime.
Your glory never shall be gone
While you have quarries of this stone ;
In influence you yet will wax
With mills for flour and also flax.

poem by James McIntyre
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Lines On The North Of Scotland

Lines on the North of Scotland, delivered in Embro nearly a
quarter of a century ago:

Scotsmen have wandered far and wide,
From Moray Frith to Frith of Clyde;
McDonald, from his sea girt isle,
And Campbell from his broad Argyle-

But chiefly here you have come forth
From those countries of the north;
Some oft have trod Dunrobins's Halls,
And gazed upon its stately walls.

Here to-night in this array
Is Murray, McKenzie and McKay;
And there doth around us stand
The Munroe, Ross and Sutherland.

Your young men have high honour earned;
In all of the professions learned;
Your Bonnie Lasses sung in song,
And youths are famed for muscle strong.

poem by James McIntyre
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Brantford

In these sketches of towns in Western Ontario, we are not vain enough
to suppose that because we have produced some rhymes thereon
that said rhymes are poetry. If we furnish an occasional poetic gleam,
like a dewdropp sparkling in the sun, it is all we dare hope for.

Brantford as thriving city's famed,
And after Indian chief is named ;
And here the sparkling Grand river,
It doth flow a joy forever.

Campbell, he sang a dismal tale
Of horrors of Wyonming's vale;
The tale one's mind doth ever haunt,
The cruelties of monster Brant.

But the chief's son to England went
And Campbell to him did lament,
And all the tale he did recant
About cruel butcheries of Brant.

Now pleasant thoughts it doth awake,
When Brantford thinks of her namesake ;
She evermore with pride will chant
The bold, heroic name of Brant.

We sing of two great Indian names,
Tecumseh on the banks of Thames,
And the Grand River it doth vaunt
Of the historic name of Brant.

The city's pride it doth find vent
In building him a monument,
And Indians will proudly stalk
Past memorial of great Mohawk.

poem by James McIntyre
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Home For The Holidays

Oh, theres no place like
Home for the holidays,
cause no matter how far away you roam
When you pine for the sunshine
Of a friendly face
For the holidays, you cant beat
Home, sweet home
I met a man who lives in tennessee
And he was headin for pennsylvania
And some home made pumpkin pie
From pennsylvania folks a travelin down
To dixies sunny shore
From atlantic to pacific, gee
The traffic is terrific
Oh theres no place like home
For the holidays, cause no matter
How far away you roam
If you want
To be happy in a million ways
For the holidays, you cant beat
Home, sweet home

song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home, Sweet Home

Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain;
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing gayly, that come at my call --
Give me them -- and the peace of mind, dearer than all!
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild,
And feel that my mother now thinks of her child,
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door
Thro' the woodbine, whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile,
And the caress of a mother to soothe and beguile!
Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam,
But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

To thee I'll return, overburdened with care;
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there;
No more from that cottage again will I roam;
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet, home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

poem by John Howard Payne
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The Wanderer

Oh well Im the type of guy who will never settle down
Where pretty girls are well, you know that Im around
I kiss em and I loveem cause to me theyre all the same
I hug em and I squeeze em they dont even know my name
They call me the wanderer yeah the wanderer
I roam around around around...
Oh well theres flo on my left and theres mary on my right
And janie is the girl with that Ill be with tonight
And when she asks me which one I love the best
I tear open my shirt I got rosie on my chest
cause Im the wanderer yeah the wanderer
I roam around around around...
Oh well I roam from town to town
I go through life without a care
til Im as happy as a clown
With my two fists of iron and Im going nowhere
Im the type of guy that likes to roam around
Im never in one place I roam from town to town
And when I find myself a-fallin for some girl
I hop right into that car of mine and ride around the world
Yeah Im the wanderer yeah the wanderer
I roam around around around...
Oh yeah Im the type of guy that likes to roam around
Im never in one place I roam from town to town
And when I find myself a-fallin for some girl
I hop right into that car of mine and ride around the world
Yeah cause Im a wanderer yeah a wanderer
I roam around around around...
cause Im a wanderer yeah a wanderer
I roam around around around...

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whereever I May Roam

Wherever I May Roam
...and the road becomes my bride
I have stripped of all but pride
so in her I do confide
and she keeps me satisfied
gives me all I need
...and with dust in throat I crave
only knowledge will I save
to the game you stay a slave
rover wanderer
nomad vagabond
call me what you will
but I'll take my time anywhere
free to speak my mind anywhere
and I'll redefine anywhere
anywhere I may roam
where I lay my head is home
...and the earth becomes my throne
I adapt to the unknown
under wandering stars I've grown
by myself but not alone
I ask no one
...and my ties are severed clean
the less I have the more I gain
off the beaten path I reign
rover wanderer
nomad vagabond
call me what you will
but I'll take my time anywhere
I'm free to speak my mind anywhere
and I'll never mind anywhere
anywhere I may roam
where I lay my head is home
but i'll take my time anywhere
free to speak my mind
and I'll take my find anywhere
anywhere I may roam
where I lay my head is home
carved upon my stone
my body lie, but still I roam
wherever I may roam

song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Folks at Home

1 Way down upon de Swanee ribber,
2 Far, far away,
3 Dere's wha my heart is turning ebber,
4 Dere's wha de old folks stay.
5 All up and down de whole creation,
6 Sadly I roam,
7 Still longing for de old plantation,
8 And for de old folks at home.

9 [Chorus] All de world am sad and dreary,
10 Ebry where I roam,
11 Oh! darkeys how my heart grows weary,
12 Far from de old folks at home.

13 [Solo] All round de little farm I wandered
14 When I was young,
15 Den many happy days I squandered,
16 Many de songs I sung.
17 When I was playing wid my brudder
18 Happy was I --.
19 Oh! take me to my kind old mudder,
20 Dere let me live and die.

21 [Chorus] All de world am sad and dreary,
22 Ebry where I roam,
23 Oh! darkeys how my heart grows weary,
24 Far from de old folks at home.

25 One little hut among de bushes,
26 One dat I love,
27 Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes,
28 No matter where I rove
29 When will I see de bees a humming
30 All round de comb?
31 When will I hear de banjo tumming
32 Down in my good old home?

33 [Chorus] All de world am sad and dreary,
34 Ebry where I roam,
35 Oh! darkeys how my heart grows weary,
36 Far from de old folks at home

poem by Stephen C. Foster
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English Names on Canadian Thames

England hath given us the names
To adorn Canadian Thames,
And charms to them she hath lent,
In Oxford, Middlesex and Kent.
She Essex kisseth in her mouth,
And Scottish names, one north, one south ;
And London now she justly claims
She's capital of vale of Thames,
And her strong castellated tower .
Doth on the river frowning lower ;
And Chatham is the river's port,
There slaves for freedom did resort,
And they did industrious toil
And now many own the soil.
Stratford, now, shall be our theme,
On Avon, tributary stream,
And its clear waters it doth launch
Into the Thames, northern branch.
Near that substantial stone town,
St. Mary's, with mills of renown.

Some imagine the Thames is too insignificant a stream
to be sung in verse.' Distance lends enchantment to
the view. and they fancy the old Scottish rivers are
more worthy of song ; but many of them are polluted of
late years with vile odors from factories ; and, as the
county of Oxford is agreeably diversified with hills
and dales, the clear, sparkling stream, flowing over a
pebbly bottom, is indeed 'a thing of beauty and a joy forever.'

poem by James McIntyre
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Rhythm Of My Heart

(marc jordan, john capek)
Across the street the river runs
Down in the gutter life is slipping away
Let me still exist in another place
Running under cover of a helicopter blade
The flames are getting higher in effigy
Burning down the bridges of my memory
Love may still be alive somewhere someway
Where theyre downing only deer
A hundred steel towns away
Oh rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum
With the words i love you rolling off my tongue
No never will I roam for I know my place is home
Where the ocean meets the sky
Ill be sailing
Photographs and kerosene light up my darkness
Light it up, light it up
I can still feel the touch of your thin blue jeans
Running down the alley Ive got my eyes all over you baby
Oh baby
Oh the rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum
With the words i love you rolling off my tongue
No never will I roam for I know my place is home
Where the ocean meets the sky Ill be sailing
Ill be sailing
Oh Ive got lightning in my veins
Shifting like the handle of a slot machine
Love may still exist in another place
Im just yanking back the handle
No expression on my face
Oh the rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum
With the words i love you rolling off my tongue
Never will I roam for I know my place is home
Where the ocean meets the sky
Ill be sailing
Oh the rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum
With the words i love you rolling off my tongue
No never will I roam for I know my place is home
Where the ocean meets the sky
Ill be sailing
The rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum
With the words i love you rolling off my tongue
Never will I roam for I know my place is home
Where the ocean meets the sky
Ill be sailing

song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh, It Is Good

Oh, it is good to drink and sup,
And then beside the kindly fire
To smoke and heap the faggots up,
And rest and dream to heart's desire.

Oh, it is good to ride and run,
To roam the greenwood wild and free;
To hunt, to idle in the sun,
To leap into the laughing sea.

Oh, it is good with hand and brain
To gladly till the chosen soil,
And after honest sweat and strain
To see the harvest of one's toil.

Oh, it is good afar to roam,
And seek adventure in strange lands;
Yet oh, so good the coming home,
The velvet love of little hands.

So much is good. . . . We thank Thee, God,
For all the tokens Thou hast given,
That here on earth our feet have trod
Thy little shining trails of Heaven.

poem by Robert William Service
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Alley Of Hope

Pint sized allies,
A hidden agenda for which I drink.
A home away from home,
a place to think.
when I drink I roam,
leaving everything I know
back at home.
Homesick from alcohol,
to late to call
so why not just roam,
until I find my home.

poem by Joe Foster
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The Straying Sheep

How many sheep are straying
Lost from the Savior's fold!
Upon the lonely mountain, They shiver with the cold:
Within the tangled thickets,
Where poison vines do creep,
And over rocky ledges
Still roam the poor lost sheep.

O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."

O who will go to find them?
Who, for the Savior's sake,
Will search with tireless patience
Through brier and through brake
Unheeding thirst or hunger,
Who still from day to day,
Will seek, as for treasure,
The sheep that go astray?

O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."

Say, will you seek to find them?
From pleasant bow'rs of ease
Will you go forth determined
To find the least of these?
For still the Savior calls them,
And looks across the wold,
And still He holds wide open
The door into His fold.

O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."

How sweet 'twound be at evening
If you and I could say,
"Good Shepherd we've been seeking
The sheep that went astray!
Heartsore and faint with hunger,
We heard them making moan,
And lo! we come at nightfall,
And bear them safely home."

O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."

poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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Celebrate Me Home

Home for the holidays,
I believe Ive missed each and every face,
Come on and play my music,
Lets turn on the love light in the place
Its time I found myself,
Totally surrounded in your circles
Whoa, my friends
Please, celebrate me home,
Give me a number,
Please, celebrate me home
Play me one more song,
That Ill always remember,
And I can recall,
Whenever I find myself too all alone,
I can sing me home.
Uneasy highway,
Traveling where the westerly winds can fly,
Somebody tried to tell me,
But the men forgot to tell me why,
I gotta count on being gone,
Come on woman, come on daddy,
Be what you want from me,
Im this strong, Ill be weak
Please, celebrate me home,
Give me a number,
Please, celebrate me home
Play me one more song,
That Ill always remember,
I can recall,
Whenever I find myself too all alone,
I can make believe Ive never gone,
I never know where I belong,
Sing me home.
Please, celebrate me home,
Give me a number,
Please, celebrate me home
Play me one more song,
Celebrate, celebrate
Celebrate, celebrate
Celebrate, celebrate
Celebrate me home
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Well Im finally here,
But Im bound to roam,
Come on celebrate me home
Well Im finally here,
But Im bound to roam,
Come on celebrate me home
Well Im finally here,
But Im bound to roam,
Come on celebrate me home
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
(fade)

song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Roam Baby Roam

All the midnight callings
'round my shoe, 'round my shoe
all the midnight callings
from me to you, from me to you

take this land I hold in my hand
let's travel far and roam baby roam
I got my hand in this jar
and you can have what's mine

roam baby roam
let's roam tonight
roam baby roam
in my arms tonight

leftover pasta just won't do
it's time for liquid madness
over boiled craziness
half baked mental craze

here we go again!
we're roaming free
going absolutely crazy!

roam baby roam
I got you and you got me
roam baby roam
we gonna be free
we gonna be free

poem by Sara Winters
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