The afternoon plane lands in Halifax When the hatch is popped, cool air rushes in Even the fog is happy in Canada
The Muskogee 1 never made landfall here And so we pilgrimage for her, completing Her voyage from ’42 to Canada
Wolfville, Grand Pre’, Le Grande Derangement The Deportation Cross and beer cans Well, God forgive the Redcoats anyway
Newfoundland Is a bold Anapest
The church spires in a line, the light is green The bold young captain shoots the narrows wild Can you find your way to your painted house?
To walk again the cobbles of Ferryland And smell the very blue of the Atlantic The sea-blown wind is cold in Canada
Blue Puttees and a mourning Caribou Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord Good children sing “We love thee, Newfoundland”
Quebec – royal city of New France May Le Bon Dieu bless the Plains of Abraham, And may God bless The signs an English driver cannot read
The Coca-Cola streets of Niagara Falls Yanks laugh at made-in-China Mountie mugs And buy them, happy to be in Canada
A cup of Toujours Frais from – well, that place But to us in your southern provinces Below Niagara, Tim too is Canada
Though Canada goes on, these scribbles must not –
Your grateful guest wishes only to say That every happy day is Canada Day!
1 The oiler Muskogee was torpedoed with the loss of all her crew while en route from the Caribbean to Halifax in 1942. My mother's first husband, Claude Blanchette, was second officer. Shortly before Mother's death my wife and I took her to Halifax.