Prologue

My friends, we sing Canadian themes,

For in them we proudly glory;

Her lakes, her rivers and her streams,

Worthy of renown in story.

And in these leaves we hope is

Some wheat among the

And maple boughs, by rude axe

Where one may find a rustic

To help him o'er the rugged lines.

Some see no beauties near to home,

But do admire the distant far -They always love abroad to roam,

View glory in but far off star;

But, let it never be

That distant hills, when closer seen,

Are after all a barren spot -Not like your own hills, clad in green.

You'll find they are but idle dreams,

To search for happiness afar:

At home there's lovely lakes and streams,

Remain content now where you are.

At us we hope you will not

Because we sing of local

In each varied town and village,

As well as round our rural farms.

But our address it must be brief,

So we bid you now all adieu;

But, of our book, pray read each leaf,

Until the whole you have gone through;

Each one doth know it is not wise,

Though our song may not be vocal,

Chants of our home for to despise,

But prize them 'cause they are local.