The Joys Of Prairie Farmers 1884.

We let Ontario farmers sing             About the joys the woods do bring,             But we in regions of Northwest             Do think prairie farms the best,             For those poor men who swing the axe             On their strength 'tis a heavy tax,             For several years they naught can grow             While from the first we plow and sow,             And while we plow we don't get thumps             By running it against the stumps,             And where wild Buffalo now doth feed             There very soon they'll sow the seed,             Where Indian wigwams now do stand             Will be the site of cities grand,             And where the deer and wolf doth roam             Millions will build each happy home,             So quick as if by magic wand             They will arise o'er the whole land,             But this one fact we won't deny             Ontario she can supply,             For so skilfully she doth invent             Each agricultural implement.