Chorus

O, I'm good wan all aroun', Rosemarie; I'm de bes' man on de Soun' Wit' peavie. In de sunshine or de wreck I am always on de deck, Jean Labonne from ol' Kebec-- Dat is me!

On de fourt' of each July, Rosemarie; An' w'en Chris'mas day come nigh, You can see Ev'ry lumber son of gun On de States of Washington Jus' lak Jean Baptiste Labonne, On de spree!

I am call' de "Skookum Kid," Rosemarie; I'm grease lightning on de skid Yes siree; I can "team" or "tend de hook," I can "bark" or "fall" or "buck," An' w'en whisky's down de cook I'm "cookee!"

O, you'd lak for tak' one ride, Rosemarie; Do'n de steep ol' mo'nta'n side 'Long wit' me; Dare is notting lak a jog Do'n dat mo'nta'n on a log Clinging to an iron dog, Hully gee!

But w'en Skookum leave de rail, Rosemarie; For an independen' trail Thru de tree; Den you see somebodda jomp Lak de dev' along de dump, An' climb up on wan beeg stump, Dat is me!

CANADIANS GUARD YOUR OWN.

During the Boer War at a time when the British forces were suffering severe reverses a certain Quebec paper stated that the British Empire was built on "feet of clay" and predicted that it would, like its Babylonian prototype, suffer a sudden fall.

We trust it's a long long way to that "fall," and thank God the dear old flag still waves.

"On feet of clay," false prophets say, "On feet of clay, the Empire stands"; Great Power which braves tempestuous waves For Freedom's cause in many lands.

Write not again, misguided pen, Write not again our "woes" upon. Compare us not with that vain sot Whose misrule doomed old Babylon.

Is it because you love their laws, Is it because you love the Boer, You thus assail with bitter wail The flag which waves your country o'er?

Flag of the brave, long may it wave! Flag of the brave still rule the sea! While Britain fights for human rights-- For progress and for liberty.

Reverses may be ours today; Reverses may our arms attend: But Britain's might--with Britain's right-- Will surely conquer in the end.

Unwise Semaine why thus complain? Unwise Semaine why idly rave? If it be "sin" for us to win 'Tis sin to liberate the slave!

Pray cant no more anent the Boer, Pray cant no more, 'tis but a ruse For venting rage against an age Ahead of Semaine Religieuse.

Our country needs no clashing creeds, Our country needs no cliques nor clans. United all to stand or fall, Let's still be true Canadians!

A glorious name our children claim, A glorious heritage is theirs; Then why should we thus disagree, And strew their path with racial snares?

The time is near, the edict's clear, The time is near when racial strife Will vanish quite before the light That ushers in a nobler life.

Your destined lot, deny it not, Your destined lot is clear and plain; Nor vicious kicks against the pricks Can e'er retard the coming reign!

No bigot's sway shall rule our day; No bigot of a bygone age Shall ever stand in this free land To preach a gospel born of rage.

Proclaiming peace, let rancor cease; Proclaiming peace, let strife be slain. Let Saxon trait and Gallic hate Be merged in strong Canadian strain!