Claims passing notice now from me--
A well read man, for truth to tell,
He studied Burns and Byron well;
And which two of the wizard few
Have touched with tuneful hand so true.
The throbbing pulses of the soul,
Which vibrate 'neath their wild control.
Friend John Macdonald, here's my hand,
Thou relic of the vanished land!
Michael McBean I can't pass by,
He kept of old a grocery--
Just opposite McDougal's gate,
Where the big auger hangs in state.
Richard McCann, too, did abide
In peace the Sappers' Bridge beside,
In house we ne'er shall see again,
Once tenanted by Andrew Main--
A cannie, sober, honest Scot,
Was Andrew Main--an humble lot,
With patient industry he bore,
Till fortune smiled, and then a store
He opened, in extensive way,
Where William Fingland keeps to-day.
Peter A. Egleson to boot,
The young idea how to shoot,
On George Street north, in days gone by
Taught in his own academy;
At length the birch he threw aside,
And floated proudly on the tide
Of commerce--and his name appears