Of village denizens another;
John Miller too, of leather fame,
Who from the County Wexford came,
And first made here such boots and shoes
As fashion could not now refuse
In this fastidious age to take
And wear them for their matchless make.
And how have I not had before
James Anderson, a man of yore,
Who pitched his tent in days gone by
'Mong Bytown's ancient company,
An honest hearted jovial Scot
As e'er in exile cast his lot
'Mongst those who pioneered the track
Down which my memory's muse looks back.
And now as I stretch forth my hand
In search of one from Paddy's land,
A man of wit and humour rare,
I touch him still and find him there.
From Erin, scarcely from Armagh,
To Carleton came Denis McGrath,
Loud has his North Hibernian tongue
Upon the Byward market rung
For six and thirty years; in truth,
I've known him since the days of youth,
John Litle can my tale review
Of Denis, he will find it true.
And John Macdonald, of the Isles,
With face clad in perennial smiles,
Knight of the knock-down hammer, he