Classic Poem

Heroes there are that tower sublime,
Of ev'ry creed, in ev'ry clime,
Of high or humble birth,
With heads to think and hearts to feel,
And labor for the common weal—
True leaders on this earth.
Such men to fashion never bow—
Like Cincinnatus at the plow,
They feel no degradation;
They're always placing moral worth
The highest rank attain'd on earth,
In any rank or station.

The man of downright common-sense
Scorns make-believe and all pretence,
Puts intrigue far apart,
Despising double-dealing work,
And ev'ry little dodge and quirk,
With all his head and heart.
With freeman written on his brow—
His ancient badge the spade and plow—
A true-born son of Adam—
A brother of humanity,
He shows the same urbanity
To plowman and to madam.

Such men are here to do and dare,
The burdens of the weak to share,
So heavy in our day.
No true man asks their blood or birth,
For homage to all moral worth
Instinctively they pay.
These men are to themselves a law,
And never need to stand in awe
Of party or opinion.
They do the work they find to do,
And stand up for the just and true,
In this our dear Dominion.

Who stand erect in their own shoes
Are just the men that snobs abuse,
With hatred in excess;
For they despise gentility
That's purchas'd by servility
And want of manliness;
And they proclaim such snobs a curse,
Whose tamp'ring with the public purse
Will make, in their opinion,
A common byword, for the mirth
Of all the nations on the earth,
Of this our dear Dominion.

Of Gladstone's high, heroic cast,
They nail their colors to the mast,
Inspired by love of right;
They cannot, will not be downcast,
Are always sure to stand at last
Triumphant in the fight.
Then let us ever hope and pray,
In this our own progressive day,
May freedom spread her pinion
O'er heads that think and hearts that feel,
And labor for the common weal
In this our dear Dominion.