The Serpent.

A poem by Wilfred S. Skeats

Canada, the time approaches,
And is even now at hand,
When thou must declare what ruler
Thine allegiance shall command.

In thy midst there creeps a Serpent--
Deadliest of all thy foes--
Gliding in among thy councils,
Spreading venom where she goes.

Like the fatal boa-constrictor
Charming those who soon must die,
She can so transfix her victim
By the glitter of her eye,

That the greatest of thy statesmen
Dares not question her decree,
But in meek humiliation
Bows to her, abjuring thee.

Rise, Canadians! and boldly
Thrust the Serpent from your land;
And should any strive to help her,
Crush them with your martial hand.

Rise unanimous, and fear not
In your country's cause to fight;
Better bloodshed than surrender
To the wily Serpent's might.

Hurl from power the men who basely
Truckle to the Serpent's will;
Cast them out and call on others--
Truer men--their place to fill.

Men whose chiefest aim shall be to
Fight for Canada and home--
Men who will not bow before the
Dictates of the Church of Rome.

Canada, the time approaches,
And is even now at hand--
Wilt thou choose that Rome or England
Thine allegiance shall command?