O, no; I'm not an Englishman, Though it is something great To have for birthplace English soil, And live in such a State;
Yet I'm not now an Englishman, For why? I crossed the sea And live in dear Canadian clime, The Land of Liberty
I am not now a leal Scotchman, Though born‘ midst Scotia's hills, And recollections of her scenes My bosom ever thrills,
For I have sailed o'er ocean vast, And to this land have come, Where Freedom waves her banner o'er My new, adopted home.
O, no, I'm not an Irishman, Though sprung from Erin's bowers, And Memory often takes me back To those most happy hours
When, roaming o'er her fair green Isle, With warmth I pressed her sod, And felt my own, my native Land, The best that foot e'er trod.
For I have come to Canada To settle on her land, And to all her inhabitants Give Friendship's honored hand.
I am no longer German now Though “Fatherland” I loved, And vowed remembrance to take Of her, where'er I roved.
For here on this prolific soil I own a splendid farm, And lovely children growing up Call forth my feelings warm.
I would not be a Frenchman deemed, Though sprung of Gaulish race, And their pure blood I freely can In my forefathers trace.
For I would feel as much at home As ever man can be Back in our woods or in our towns, Whilst I have liberty.
O, yes; we are Canadians now, Wherever we were born; And we will strive in time to come To heal a land so torn
By party strife, by clannish fire, And aim to live in peace. Then put united efforts forth, Till life itself shall cease,
To make her what she ought to be — Acknowledged on each hand A noble, free, and powerful State, A great and glorious Land!
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