Was John; his candles never ran.
And many in this ancient place
Owed him a debt for a clean face.
William Kipp, too, doth memory greet,
In a small shop on Rideau Street,
A man of gentlemanly kind,
With a well-cultivated mind;
And Commissary Strachan, too,
And Oriel, who had much to do
Paying the debts of Waterloo,
And many another battle field
Where Britons fought and did not yield.
And old John Ring, "good gracious me!"
I had almost forgotten thee--
Thou "Silky" John of other years,
Gone from this dreary vale of tears,
A passing shade, and more's the pity,
For thou wert ever gay and witty.
And Charles Baines, an old time lawyer,
Stood here professional top sawyer;
He owned a bull dog, arrant thief!
Who plundered Agar Yielding's beef;
And when friend Yielding sought for law,
To deal with canine of such maw,
"Why, there is just one simple way,"
Said Charley, "Make the owner pay;"
"I thank you for your judgment brief,"
Said Agar, "pay me for the beef."
"Seven and sixpence worth of prog,
Was bolted by _your_ big bull dog."