The Cheese Pionner

Lines on Rannie, the cheese pioneer, written a quarter of a century ago.

Rannie began with just two cows,
Which he in winter fed on brouse
And now he hath got mighty herds,
Numerous as flock of birds ;
May he long live, our hearts to cheer,
This great and useful Pioneer

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Great Pioneer

Graham Russell)
It happened long ago
When I felt the need
For a life of my own
I dreamt of summer love
And moving high up north
But no one would go
So I walked up the hill and lay there
Imagining the day was near
I know I want to stay there
And be a great pioneer
I made a promise then
That I'd find a place
Where my world won't end
Give me a piece of land
That will be my life
That I will defend
If I work really hard
I will surely survive
I know my virtue is strong
No one could oppose a spirt
So raw to be a part of the state
To be known as a great pioneer
I keep the fires burning
To let you know I'm free
My heart will always be yearning
CHORUS
To be a part of the state
To be a part of the state
To be known as a great pioneer
And if it all should end
ANd I hear the call
From the great unknown
I'll need to go my way
Let me have my day
Let me be alone
I was dreaming here and lay there
Knowing that my time is here
I know I wanna stay there
And be a part of the state
And be a part of the state
And be known as a great pioneer

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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 the 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,
Yie'ds plenty now to fill their mows,
Both wheat and barley, oats and peas
But still their greatest boast is cheese.

And you must careful fill your mows
With good provender for your cows,
And in the winter keep them warm,
Protect them safe all time from harm,
For cows do dearly love their ease,
Which doth insure best grade of cheese.

To us it is a glorious theme
To sing of milk and curds and cream,
Were it collected it could float
On its bosom, small steam boat,
Cows numerous as swarm of bees
Are milked in Oxford to make cheese.

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To me, Arnold was a pioneer in the spirit of Thomas Edison or Benjamin Franklin, while Tiger is a pioneer in the spirit of Bill Gates.

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The Misfortunates

What a prodigy, dear Chatterton?
At your teens, you pioneer'd romance
Alas, poverty be your mighty menace
The silent suicide of arsenic poison.
.
Poverty and tuberculosis in your battles
All in the blush of bitter rejections
A virtuoso bedridden in his afflictions
Norwid, this life unfair - heaven rattles.
.
I mourn the life and death of Crosby
Her poems and hymns her witness
She had journey'd all her days in blindness
I imagine with pity how she prance the lobby.
.
Your lines are great, - though
They were written in distress
Your tears when you mourn your mistress
Your fourty was full of pain, Allan Poe.
.

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Facts About Cheese

When the price of cheese was so low a few years ago that the
dairymen seriously thought of giving up the manufacture
of cheese and of selling their cows, we published the fol-
lowing lines and distributed them by the thousand :

Price soon will rise, though now 'tis low,
And brooks of milk will onward flow ;
Were it collected in one stream
There would be floods of milk and cream.

Mr. T. D. Millar has just secured, Sept., 1884, the first prize for cheese at the great
cheese fair at Amsterdam, Holland. They weighed over 600 pounds each, and were
manufactured by the Burnside Factory of Dorchester. The Galloway Factory is manufacturing
several cheese weighing one ton each. The mammoth cheese, alluded to in cheese ode,
was manufactured by Mr. James Harris, Ingersoll Factory. The Dnnn Cheese Factory, North
Oxford, secured first prize at the great Centennial Exhibition, but where all factories
produce such excellent cheese perhaps it would be making invidious distinctions to specify
the honours won by any particular factory. The West Oxford Company have recently built a
fine factory on the Culloden Road.

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Endless Vistas

I sat upon a grey slate rock,
and looked into the distance blue.
There on a hill I saw a flock
of sheep. Eating the green grass, new.

Gazing with awe at this charmed scene,
sunbeams began to pierce the haze,
and shine down on this site serene.
One of those sweet halcyon days.

The bleating of the newborn lambs.
The warbling of numerous birds.
The watchfulness of angry rams,
guarding their offspring in the herds.

Our countryside shows wondrous views,
that please the eye when first discerned.
Endless vistas for us to choose.
Our sheer delight, each one has earned.


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Prophecy of a Ten Ton Cheese

In presenting this delicate, dainty morsel to the imagination of the people, I believed that it could be realized. I viewed the machine that turned and raised the mamoth cheese, and saw the powerful machine invented by James Ireland at the West Oxford companies factory to turn the great and fine cheese he was making there. This company with but little assistance could produce a ten ton cheese.


Who hath prophetic vision sees
In future times a ten ton cheese,
Several companies could join
To furnish curd for great combine
More honor far than making gun
Of mighty size and many a ton.

Machine it could be made with ease
That could turn this monster cheese,
The greatest honour to our land
Would be this orb of finest brand,
Three hundred curd they would need squeeze
For to make this mammoth cheese.

So British lands could confederate
Three hundred provinces in one state,
When all in harmony agrees
To be pressed in one like this cheese,
Then one skillful hand could acquire
Power to move British empire.

But various curds must be combined
And each factory their curd must grind,
To blend harmonious in one
This great cheese of mighty span,
And uniform in quality
A glorious reality.

But it will need a powerful press
This cheese queen to caress,
And a large extent of charms
Hoop will encircle in its arms,
And we do not now despair,
But we shall see it at world's fair.

And view the people all agog, so
Excited o'er it in Chicago,
To seek fresh conquests queen of cheese
She may sail across the seas,
Where she would meet reception grand
From the warm hearts in old England.

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Ode on the Mammoth Cheese

We have seen the Queen of cheese,
Laying 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 o' Queen of Cheese.

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

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Lines on A Canadian Hunter

Of Kentucky's great hunter bold,
Old Daniel Boon, oft tales are told ;
Of wild beasts he had no fear,
But dangers loved, that pioneer.

Canada hath hunters many,
Yet perhaps there is not any
For skill and boldness can compare
With our own Daniel Hebner.

In youth he was both tall and strong,
And supple as a willow thong ;
Hs never fled from savage bear,
Though bruin on hind legs would rear.

In hunting mink, or fox, or coon,
He was a second Daniel Boon ;
His rifle oft brought down the deer,
Which to his table brought good cheer.

But through his life his highest aim
Was to kill the savage game,
To track the wild cat to its lair
And see its eyes so fiercely glare.

But he oft longs for a cut ham,
Sweet as from bear near to Putnam,
For he waged his fiercest war
In big swamp of Dorchester.

Now, in the winter, Dan he rides
Warm 'mong his bear and coon skin hides.
He lets the younger men now snare
The beaver, muskrat and ottar.

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T.S. Eliot

Any pioneer of a revolution in poetry - and Mr. Pound is more responsible for the XXth Century revolution in poetry than is any other individual - is sure to attack some venerated names.

T.S. Eliot in Introduction to «Literary Essays of Ezra Pound» (1954)Report problemRelated quotes
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Great Herds

there were great herds
of buffalo then...
racing wildly across
the plains,
bodies painted,
ponies nostrils flared,
bow and arrow ready...

to the victor
the spoils...
a prayer of gratitude
to the spirit
of the beast....
meat for the long winter...

maybe even a taste
of raw liver...

there were great herds
of buffalo then...
when the people
of the earth
were free!

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Emily Dickinson

Life—is what we make of it

698

Life—is what we make of it—
Death—we do not know—
Christ's acquaintance with Him
Justify Him—though—

He—would trust no stranger—
Other—could betray—
Just His own endorsement—
That—sufficeth Me—

All the other Distance
He hath traversed first—
No New Mile remaineth—
Far as Paradise—

His sure foot preceding—
Tender Pioneer—
Base must be the Coward
Dare not venture—now—

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The way of the pioneer is always rough.

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Phillis 01

MY Phillis hath the morning sun
At first to look upon her;
And Phillis hath morn-waking birds
Her risings still to honour.
My Phillis hath prime-feather'd flowers,
That smile when she treads on them;
And Phillis hath a gallant flock,
That leaps since she doth own them.
But Phillis hath too hard a heart,
Alas that she should have it!
It yields no mercy to desert,
Nor grace to those that crave it.

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Phillis I

My Phillis hath the morning sun
At first to look upon her;
And Phillis hath morn-waking birds
Her risings still to honour.
My Phillis hath prime-feather'd flowers,
That smile when she treads on them;
And Phillis hath a gallant flock,
That leaps since she doth own them.
But Phillis hath too hard a heart,
Alas that she should have it!
It yields no mercy to desert,
Nor grace to those that crave it.

poem by Thomas LodgeReport problemRelated quotes
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In a word I was a pioneer, and therefore had to blaze my own trail.

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Oxford Cheese Makers Song

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.

CHORUS.
Then long life to Father Ranney,
May he wealth and honor 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,
' How dear it is,' they mutter.

CHORUS.
Then long life to Father Ranney,
May he his health retain, aye !

Farmers now can not be beat
With their cheese and their wheat,
Though now their greatest care is
For to watch o'er their dairies ;
They carefully fill their mows
With provender for their cows,
And they thus enrich the soil
With much profit for their toil.

CHORUS.
We will sing this refrain, aye,
Long life to Father Ranney.

The motto, 'Union is Strength,'
Is carried out at length
In the most compact array
At every cheese factory.
You'll see without going as far as
There is one kept by Harris,
The factory of Ingersoll,
Just out at the first toll.

CHORUS.
May he never suffer pain, aye,
The father of cheesemen, Ranney.
Or you may go all the way
To see one kept by Galloway,
And out in the Norwiches
Dairymen are making riches;
And honor has been won
By Harvey Farrington ;
The same path is trodden
By folks about Culloden.

CHORUS.
May his strength never wane, aye,
The great dairyman, Ranney.
And of late we saw some
Very good cheese from Lawson ;
All around Mount Elgin
Dairymen have well done;
And out in East Nissouri
They make some scores a day ;
From Jarvis and Elliott
Some good cheese is bought.

CHORUS
And we will all remain, aye,
Indebted to Father Ranney.
Now we close this glorious theme,
This song of curds and rich cream,
Subject worthy of our muse,
You can buy your hoops and screws,
Boxes and vats, all things like these,
In Ingersoll, great mart for cheese ;
Here buyers all do congregate,
And pay for cheese the highest rate.

CHORUS.
So we call on you again, aye,
To honor Father Ranney.

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The Poem I Am Writing Now

The poem I am writing now
does not know if it will be finished
it does not even know if it will be a poem -
it is slowly appearing line by line
and making its own meaning on the page-

Is it worth anything?
will anyone care?
I don't know -

The poem I am writing now
is just these lines
and these lines like all lines
are only small words
in a vast universe
that has long lived
and will probably longer live
without them.

Why then write these words now?

The poem I am writing now is saying,
'I am here now'.

But why should this mean anything to anyone else?

The poem I have written here
is not the poem I would have posted here
It is only the poem I am finishing now
a poem without great love or belief in itself.

The poem I am writing now
is written.

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Eric Hoffer

It is often the failure who is the pioneer in new lands, new undertakings, and new forms of expression.

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A pioneer destroys things and calls it civilization.

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