Explore "Lines on t. D. Mcgee" by James McIntyre on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Having been kindly invited as a member of the Mechanics' Institute some 20 years ago by the late Jeremiah O'Neill, Esq., to meet that gentleman in company with a number of our townsmen, when Mr. McGee was rising from the table the chair being new stuck to him, and it being near a general election he very wittily remarked that he hoped the people of Montreal would be as anxious to retain him in his seat as the people here are. We wrote the following lines at the time, the last verse was added afterwards.
DeArcy McGee, / All compliment thee, / The hope of the land / On your lecture so grand.
Though that is your forte, / Oh give us the sport / Of an hour of your chat, / Then we'll laugh and grow fat.
For none but the vile / Could 'ere cease to smile, / When near to thee / So brilliant and free.
Plant of green Erin's isle, / Long in Canadian soil, / May you take deep root / And bear much noble fruit.
Our hopes were in vain, / Alas he is slain, / By a crankish hand / The flower of the land.