An old man who had charge of field,
With pride he saw two birds did build,
A broad capacious warm nest,
So full of young with speckled breast,

And when the old man there did pass,
They soon ran merry 'mong the grass,
But of the youth they were so shy,
They made strong efforts for to fly.

Youths tried with old man to prevail,
To let them blaze away at quail,
But though they longed for a fat pot,
At them they never got a shot.

No more the old man doth them shield,
For they have flown to broader field,
Long may they spread their wings and tail,
And may no foe them 'ere assail.

A Bird's Nest

I bought of land two miles square,
I knew not it contained a bear,
I never thought there would be any,
But alas, I found many;
The bush was thick and mat and tangle,
It made it a perfect jungle,
But one mile square of good dry land
Was enough for me to take in hand;
Swamp I could reach but when frozen,
Then I saw bears by the dozen,
Thick as monkies in Africa,
And many a strange trick I saw,
Gamboling with the greatest ease,
High up the trunks of the big trees,
While some were swinging from branches
And hanging on them with their haunches;
But quietly I then tilled my farm,
The bears at first done me no harm,
Till one night I was roused by dogs,
And found a bear was at my hogs,
He threw a pig across each shoulder
And there I was a sad beholder,
But to the house I quickly run
For to procure my loaded gun,
And as he could not run but slow,
So heavy laden through the snow,
I him full soon did overtake,
And his courage quick I did shake,
For by the leg my good bold dog
He bravely caught the thievish rogue,
And this move made him soon fork o'er
To me at once the largest porker,
For moment squeeze it did pig stun,
But up he rose and quick he run,
The bear now scared his only hope,
To let at once the other pig drop,
I shot the bear right through the eyes
And secured a valued prize,
There's nothing I love so to eat
In winter time as the bear's meat,
So a victory I soon won
And sold for high price grease and skin;
The bears on honey love to thrive,
One morn was wrecked my best beehive,
That day I was to sell the honey
For to raise some ready money,
But bear my views he did despise
And proudly carried off the prize;
That night I set a good spring gun,
With rails I built for him a run,
Open all way to hive of bees,
He tried again a hive to seize,
But all his efforts were in vain,
He sprung the gun and he was slain,
O'er the fact I felt quite funny
It well repaid me for my honey;
One bear was playing on me joke,
Carrying off all my young stock,
I set my trap, built round it fence,
Resolved he ne'er would get from thence,
But at the first he did me hoax,
For he was cunning as a fox,
He dug under and stole my bait,
But I next sunk trap and sealed his fate,
My good iron trap again it caught
A great bear but it came to naught,
Breakfast he had at my expense
And he then showed wondrous sense,
Trap he picked up with greatest ease
And dashed it to pieces on the trees,
But blacksmith soon did it repair
For I was bound to have that bear,
I attached to trap a heavy clog,
It was like lifting a small log,
I drove in it some sharp iron spikes
Which would cut deep each time he strikes,
He tried again to steal my bait
And break my trap at the old rate,
But he soon dashed out his own brains,
His carcass it brought me great gains;
A neighbour man who would not work
I thought that he did steal my pork,
But at last I found long black hairs,
Then I knew it was the bears,
I put through barrels rods of iron
So they a bear neck would environ,
And rods together they would snap,
I found him choked quite dead in trap,
Since then my strife with bears did cease,
Now many years I've lived in peace.

Adventures With Bears

The following lines were written at the request of a little girl, who said she would recite them at a Sunday School entertainment. Prof. J. S. Blackie of Edinburgh, in a letter acknowledging the receipt of my book, said he considered this piece worthy of being committed to memory in the public schools. Sir Daniel Wilson of Toronto University also approves of them as containing good sentiments and should be impressed on the minds of the young.


Dressing in fashion will be called vain,
And they'll call you a dowdy if you are plain,
But do what is right, let that be the test,
Then proudly hold up your head with the best.
                For people will talk.

You will never be wrong if you do what is right,
And this course pursue with all of your might,
And if you're a child going to school,
Or full grown up take this for your rule.
                For people will talk.

The best way to do is to let them rave
And they'll think more of you if you are brave,
For no one will ever think you are rude
If you are determined for to be good.
                For people will talk.

Little girl on her way to Sunday School class,
Rude boys sometimes will not let her pass,
But if they see she is not afraid
They soon will respect the brave little maid.
                For people will talk.

Little girls should learn to knit and to sew,
Then if to womanhood they ever grow,
Their hose they can knit and make their own dress,
And pathway of life for others they bless.
                For people will talk.

And their homes they should make tidy and neat,
Everything should be so clean and so sweet,
This line for ourselves out we will chalk
And we are determined in it to walk.
                For people will talk.

Advice To A Little Girl

Poor laborers they did sad bewail,
When the machine displaced the flail,
There's little work now with the hoes.
Since cultivators weed the rows.

Labor it became more fickle,
When the scythe took place of sickle,
Labor still it did sink lower,
By introduction of mower.

And the work was done much cheaper
When they added on the reaper,
Another machine to it they join,
Mower, reaper, binder, all combine.

Machines now load and stow away,
Both the barley and the hay,
And the farmers do get richer
With the loader and the pitcher.

There's very few men now hand sows,
No more broad cast the grain it grows,
They sow and rake by the machine,
Hand labor is 'mong the things have been.

Armed with scythes the old war chariot,
Cut men down in the fierce war riot,
Round farmers' chariot fall the slain,
But 'tis the sheaves of golden grain.

Agricultural Implements

We are in ancient stories told,
All were brothers in days of old,
But these with facts they do not chime
For all mankind do love the dime,
And worship the mighty dollar,
And admire the golden collar,
The rich man's washed with whitest lime,
The poor man's cover'd o'er with slime,
But we should try to love each other
And treat each man as our brother.

All Men Are Brothers

Like fruit that's large and ripe and mellow,
Sweet and luscious is Longfellow,
Melodious songs he oft did pour
And high was his Excelsior.
He shows in his Psalm of Life
The folly of our selfish strife,
With Hiawatha we bewail
His suffering in great Indian tale.
Indian nation was forlorn
Till great spirit planted corn;
His story of Evangeline
It is a tale of love divine.

American Poets

A miner in California mine,
For his distant home he did repine,
In a far off Eastern state,
Where did live his own dear mate.

And one great source of all his joy,
His little darling baby boy,
One night to drive his cares away
To concert hall his footsteps stray.

And loud resounding o'er the hall,
He heard a little boy squall,
The sweetest music he e'er heard,
Sweeter far than singing bird.

For his thoughts it caused to roam,
To his distant eastern home,
Near to the mine there were no trace
Of baby dear or woman's face.

When violinist with his bow
Did make exquisite music flow,
The miner he did loudly bawl
Stop fiddle and let baby squall.

My sad heart his cries doth cheer,
Reminding me of my own dear,
For sooner I would him behold,
Than if I found a mine of gold.

For what are all the joys of life,
So far away from child and wife,
But few more months I will stay here
Then join my wife and baby dear.

Baby Darling

Of Beachville, village of the plain,
We now will sing a short refrain,
For here the Thames doth pleasant flow,
And charm 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 poet's rhyme
The whiteness of your pure white 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.

Beachville

Strange incidents do happen ever
On the famed Niagara river,
This thought to mind it now recalls
Event three miles above the falls.

Thrilling ventures there abound,
A bear which weighed eight hundred pounds,
Hunters they do him discover
As he was swimming down the river.

They felt he would be glorious prize
This grand fat bear of mighty size,
Three men they jump'd into canoe,
A skilful and determined crew.

Soon alongside of him they row,
But kindly feelings he doth show,
Quick he scrambled o'er the boat side
For to enjoy a good boat ride.

And as o'er the side he straddles
They hit him on head with paddles,
But all in vain, so two of crew
A short time bade the bear adieu.

And soon they swiftly swam to shore,
But current down the river bore
Man, bear and boat, the sound appals
Of roaring mighty water falls.

But vigorous now he plys the oar,
In hopes to safely reach the shore,
But this made bear to grin and growl
And wear on brow a horrid scowl.

So poor man sore against his will
Finds that in boat he must keep still,
Or else be hugged to death by bear,
While sound of falls becomes more near.

But his two friends so brave and true
Row quick 'longside in a canoe,
And fire in bruin leaden balls,
Thus saving friend from bear and falls.

Bear And Falls

A fable of the British and Russian dispute of 1885.


Russians suffer sad distress
For lack of freedom of the press,
But oft' times they are full able
To enlighten with a fable.

And they enjoy a humorous tale
Of a bear and monster whale,
The bear he went to the sea shore
The mighty ocean to explore.

And this it quick enraged the whale
Who beat the ocean with his tail,
With foaming words he told the bear
That he would strip his hide and hair.

If he ever found him more
Encroaching on his sea shore,
The bear replied I will not quail
At frothing words of any whale.

For you are a lump of blubber,
Whale rejoined you are land lubber,
Thus bandying epithets so vile,
Of bear grease and of whale oil.

Sharks and fishes of the ocean
Were thrown into great commotion,
The hawks and eagles of the air,
Lions and tigers gathered there.

Bear he wished the whale to slaughter,
But he was afraid of water,
The great whale feared that he might strand
If he ventured on the dry land.

So at last great Russia Bear
Went back again to his own lair,
And British whale content to be
Greatest monarch of the sea.

James McIntyre