Classic Poem

1. Come all ye maids of Simcoe, give ear to what I
write, In crossing Lake Ontario where
raftsmen take delight, In crossing Lake Ontario
as jolly raftsmen do, While your
lowland, loafing farmers can stay at home with you.

2 The lowland, loafing farmers they tell their girls fine tales
All of the dangers they go through in crossing over their fields,
In cutting of their grass so green — that's all what they can do,
Whilst us poor jolly raftsmen runs they [the] St. Lawrence through.

3 And when the sun it does go down, away they'll swing their ploughs,
And when it does grow darker, it's homeward they march on,
And when the clock strikes eight or nine off to their beds they'll crawl,
Whilst us poor jolly raftsmen stand many's the bitter squall.

4 The wind blows from the mountains, which toss us upside down,
And sets us in confusion for fear we'd all be drowned.
The wind blows from the west, my boys, which drives our raft along.
Cheer up, cheer up, my lively lads, your balsam oars spring on!

5 It's lee bore down and lee bore round, and set your sails to right!
It's we'll sail out immediately and leave those lakes behind.
It's we'll sail out immediately and bid those lakes adieu.
We'll steer our course all for Quebec, all sorrows to subdue!

6 All sorrows to subdue, my boys, since joy has come to town;
We'll call into a tav-er-en and there we'll all sit down.
We'll call for eggs and brandy, boys, and merrilye pass it round;
We'll drownd all sorrow in a glass since joy has come to town!

7 Since joy has come to town, my boys, it's homeward we'll march on,
To see our wives and sweethearts that we've left behind to mourn.
We'll dance and sing and merrilye be, as we oft-times done before,
And when our money it is all spent, we'll hunt the woods for more .