My Own Canadian Girl.

The demoiselles of sunny France             Have gaiety and grace;         Britannia's maids a tender glance,             A sweet and gentle face;         Columbia's virgins bring to knee             Full many a duke and earl;         But there is none can equal thee,             My own Canadian girl.         Thy hair is finer than the floss             That tufts the ears of corn;         Its tresses have a silken gloss,             A glory like the morn;         I prize the rich, luxuriant mass,             And each endearing curl         A special grace and beauty has,             My own Canadian girl.         Thy brow is like the silver moon             That sails in summer skies,         The mirror of a mind immune             From care, serene and wise,         Thy nose is sculptured ivory;             Thine ears are lobes of pearl;         Thy lips are corals from the sea,             My own Canadian girl.         Thine eyes are limpid pools of light,             The windows of thy soul;         The stars are not so clear and bright             That shine around the pole.         The crimson banners of thy cheeks             To sun and wind unfurl;         Thy tongue makes music when it speaks,             My own Canadian girl.         God keep thee fair and bright and good             As in thy morning hour,         And make thy gracious womanhood             A still unfolding flow'r.         And stay thy thoughts from trifles vain,             Thy feet from folly's whirl,         And guard thy life from every stain,             My own Canadian girl!