The Complete poetical works of Joaquin Miller . Revised Edition (With Illustrations) |
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USLAND TO ENGLAND.
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 | The Complete poetical works of Joaquin Miller . |  |
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USLAND TO ENGLAND.
A Plea in Equity.—July 4, 1901.
Blind bully, Samson, grinding so,
We laugh, we laugh to hear you roar,
The while you boast you shot a Boer
And burned his house and all within!
Why, donkey with the lion's skin,
You did all this to Us of yore,
And yet—we banged you, doan-cher-kneow!
We laugh, we laugh to hear you roar,
The while you boast you shot a Boer
And burned his house and all within!
Why, donkey with the lion's skin,
You did all this to Us of yore,
And yet—we banged you, doan-cher-kneow!
We banged you, banged you, laid you low,
At Saratoga, York, and such—
We Irish, English, Scotch, and Dutch!
Then learn to let such folks alone;
Then learn to let King George's throne
Remember; it won't cost you much—
But then—you 're English, doan-cher-kneow!
At Saratoga, York, and such—
We Irish, English, Scotch, and Dutch!
Then learn to let such folks alone;
Then learn to let King George's throne
Remember; it won't cost you much—
But then—you 're English, doan-cher-kneow!
313
And we 're your sons! But we shall grow,
Grow fairly, squarely, tall, alone—
A continent that scorns a throne!
What makes us Usmen want the earth,
And all Acadia's wealth and worth—
And all earth and Canada, our own?
Why, we 're part English, doan-cher-kneow!
Grow fairly, squarely, tall, alone—
A continent that scorns a throne!
What makes us Usmen want the earth,
And all Acadia's wealth and worth—
And all earth and Canada, our own?
Why, we 're part English, doan-cher-kneow!
Invader, vandal, Freedom's foe,
The time has come when you must pay
For towns you burned, or—Canada!
We banged you twice, can bang you thrice—
Old man, there's music in the air!
Get out, get off, and call it square,
Or music, music, doan-cher-kneow!
The time has come when you must pay
For towns you burned, or—Canada!
We banged you twice, can bang you thrice—
Old man, there's music in the air!
Get out, get off, and call it square,
Or music, music, doan-cher-kneow!
Fair sister of the sun and snow,
Broad Canada, brave, stanch, and true—
What star to stud our field of blue!
And if your king, Edward the Fat,
Should signify he don't like that,
Why, we'll annex old England too—
We yearn for islands, doan-cher-kneow!
Broad Canada, brave, stanch, and true—
What star to stud our field of blue!
And if your king, Edward the Fat,
Should signify he don't like that,
Why, we'll annex old England too—
We yearn for islands, doan-cher-kneow!
The committee which climbed my Hights to ask a poem for the Fourth, 1901, was partly English. I declined, having done some lines only the year before. But the parties still insisted; and none so persistently as the English part of the committee. I protested, that I could only write as I felt. The committee still begged, and I wrote this, with all my heart.
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