Who held positions marked and high
In Bytown's old society.
Nor has amongst the ancient few
Captain McKinnon from my view--
Though long a tenant of the tomb--
Faded into oblivion's gloom.
If Roderick Stewart now was near,
He'd pour into my listening ear
A tale I would delight to hear,
Of other men of other times,
Who's names may have escaped my rhymes.
The Captain lived, a man discreet,
Near where the ancient arch did meet
O'er famous little Sussex Street,
For there a tragedy took place
Which here the muse with truth shall trace.
A boy stood near that arch of old
Upon a wintry day--'twas cold,
Tired of sleighing down the hill,
He for a moment there stood still,
That boy sits now with pen in hand,
From memory's photographic land
Painting in colors fair and true
The vanished scenes which once he knew.
As thus he rested taking breath,
He little dreamed of blood or death.
Up Rideau Street a man there came,
Charles McStravick was his name.
A tall, lithe, active fellow, he,
As in a thousand you could see;