Superior, listen to your stolid waves
As they crash upon shores of a Canadian forest,
When they hurl the fierce winds across sandstone cliffs,
When they force a lone boat to teeter like a swing.
O' to be heard by the minstrel sea,
Run away to the cliffs, blithesome and free;
With crackling red maple leaves under my feet,
I'll steal to the shore, in hopes we should meet.