The Lake of the Thousand Isles (Evan MacColl Poems)
(For Music.) Though Missouri'stide may majestic glide, There's a curse on the soil it laves; The Ohio, too, may be fair, but who Would sojourn in the land of slaves? Be my prouder lot a Canadian cot And the bread of a freeman's toils; Then hurrah for the land of the forests grand, And the Lake of the Thousand Isles! I would seek no wealth, at the cost of health, 'Mid the city's din and strife; More I love the grace of fair nature's face, And the calm of a woodland life; I would shun the road by ambition trod, And the lore which the heart defiles;— Then hurrah for the land of the forests grand, And the Lake of the Thousand Isles! O away, away! I would gladly stray Where the freedom I love is found; Where the pine and oak by the woodman's stroke Are disturbed in their ancient bound; Where the gladsome swain reaps the golden grain, And the trout from the stream beguiles; Then hurrah for the land of the forests grand, And the Lake of the Thousand Isles.(Evan MacColl)