By which Canals and streams are span'd;
The passing wayfarer sees nought
But a stone bridge by labor wrought,
The Poet's retrospective eye
Searching the depths of memory,
A monument to Colonel By,
Beholds, enduring as each pile
Which stands beside the Ancient Nile,
As o'er the past my vision runs,
Gazing on Bytown's elder sons,
The portly Colonel I behold
Plainly as in the days of old,
Conjured before me at this hour
By memory's undying power;
Seated upon, his great black steed
Of stately form and noble breed.
A man who knew not how to flinch--
A British soldier every inch.
Courteous alike to low and high
A gentleman was Colonel By!
And did I write of lines three score
About him, I could say no more.
Howard and Thompson then kept store
Down by "the Creek," almost next door,
George Patterson must claim a line
Among the men of auld lang syne;
A man of very ancient fame,
Who in old '27 came.
One of the first firm doth remain,
He is our worthy Chamberlain,