Worthy the name of “Sir Knight”

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p. 1THE ENGLISHMAN

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Born in the flesh, and bred in the bone, Some of us harbour still A New World pride: and we flaunt or hide The Spirit of Bunker Hill. We claim our place, as a separate race, Or a self-created clan; Till there comes a day when we like to say,  ‘We are kin of the Englishman.’

For under the front that seems so cold, And the voice that is wont to storm, We are certain to find, a big, broad mind And a heart that is soft and warm. And he carries his woes in a lordly way, As only the great souls can: And it makes us glad when in truth we say, We are kin of the Englishman.’

p. 2He slams his door in the face of the world, If he thinks the world too bold. He will even curse; but he opens his purse To the poor, and the sick, and the old. He is slow in giving to woman the vote, And slow to put up her fan; But he gives her room in the hour of doom, And dies—like an Englishman.

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p. 3CANADA

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England, father and mother in one, Look on your stalwart son. Sturdy and strong, with the valour of youth, Where is another so lusty? Coated and mailed, with the armour of truth, Where is another so trusty? Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone, He is yours alone.

England, father and mother in one, See the wealth of your son. Forests primeval, and virginal sod, Wheat-fields golden and splendid: Riches of nature and opulent God For the use of his children intended. A courage that dares, and a hope that endures, And a soul all yours.

p. 4England, father and mother in one, Hear the cry of your son. Little cares he for the glories of earth Lying around and above him, Yearning is he for the rights of his birth, And the heart of his mother to love him. Vast are your gifts to him, ample his 

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