A cottage stood--'tis there no more,
And if there ever was a spot
Where friend and foe a welcome got--
Where generous hospitality
Presided o'er the banquet free,
And friendship's hand for rich and poor
Was ever opening the door--
That spot was where that cottage stood,
Embowered in the cedar wood,
And he who there resided with
An open heart, was old Ralph Smith!
In memory I behold him now,
With sparkling eye and lofty brow,
And round the table amply spread,
Are Patton, Henry, Ralph and Ned,
And Dolly--blessed be her shade!
Who, such nice things for schoolboys made,
And made them feel just as no other
On earth could do except their mother.
But I must hurry, or I own,
I ne'er shall reach the Upper Town,
For there I'll find an ancient throng
To link together in my song,
And I shall wake them up ere long.
'Mongst those of olden time who came
Was one whose engineering fame
Was brilliant--let none call be braggart
While speaking thus of John MacTaggart,
A genius of the highest grade
In that most scientific trade,