Uncle Sam To Miss Canada Poem by Robert Kirkland Kernighan

' So this is your birthday, Canuck darling,
Jeroosalem ! but you 're mighty sweet ;

Darn my skin ! you 're a reglar daisy,

Plumb from your head clean down to yer feet.

Now listen to bizness, little girl

Pack up and buckle your lot with me!'

She gives her answer her sweet lips curl :

' I 'm meat for your master, sir,' says she.

' Gee Whittaker ! Christmas ! ain't you sassy,
To turn up your nose at a duck like me?

Get onto my shape why, lor a massy !
A foolisher girl I never did see.

Supposin I undertook to make you
I 'm kinder customed to makin free

Supposin I undertook to take you?'

' I 'd scratch your eyes out, sir,' says she.

' 'T was me invented the basswood ham ;

With wooden nutmegs I made my pile ;
You can't do better than Uncle Sam,

In this here world wa'll, I should smile !
In course I Ve got consid'able gall
She drew herself up with dignity,
' Dare to come over the garden wall,

And I '11 loosen the bull dog, sir,' said she.

' I 'll dress you up like a daughter of Zion :

Your choice, my beauty, you 'll never bewail ;


You 'll help pelt mud at the British Lion,

An assist the gang at twisting his tail.'
Miss Canada grabbed at a kettle of water,

Fresh from the stove and as hot as well,
He was warm before, but he was hotter

When the seance closed and the curtain fell !